


Weathering the Storm

by Babylawyer



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Advent 2019, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylawyer/pseuds/Babylawyer
Summary: Regina Mills has had a hopeless crush on Storybrooke’s children’s librarian for years but he’s taken. She’s accepted he’s the one she’ll never have. Her son loves to hang out at the library and much to her chagrin starts trying to set them up. It’s never going to happen but she can’t help but dream.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Comments: 41
Kudos: 64
Collections: OQ Christmas Fics





	1. Chapter 1

It's the third week of the summer, and it seems her son has replaced his hours in school with hours at the library. He's waiting there for her to pick him up. He left her best friend, Mary Margaret's, place after lunch and holed himself up with a book, losing himself in magical fantasy worlds until she finishes her work. She dreams sometimes of enacting a bylaw giving the mayor the summer off so she can spend it with her son, but she's a better mayor than that so it's only ever a fleeting thought.

She was wary initially about the new arrangement they'd come up with for Henry—it had her wishing again she had the summer off. Mary Margaret has always looked after him in the summer for her and it's worked out well. But he's getting older, more independent, and this year he wanted to be able to go off the library alone; it's only a five-minute walk from Mary Margaret's, but he's only nine (almost ten and won't let her forget it, as if she could). Mary Margaret took him the first couple of days, but he'd wanted to stay for hours, which was rather boring for her friend, so they'd come up with this new system. He can walk himself to the library, but he has to text both her and Mary Margaret when he gets there and check in every hour. She got him a cell phone solely for that purpose—she'd been telling him he was too young for a phone, but circumstances changed and it's comforting for her. It's a small town, and she's probably being overprotective, but he's her whole world, and she would die if anything were to happen to him.

He's now allowed to walk himself to her office too since it's down the street from his favourite hangout, but more often than not she has to go collect him. It's a task she doesn't mind at all because she loves to look at Storybrooke's children's librarian. She's been hung up on him since the first time she saw him there. She's sure she'd seen him around before then—in a town their size, it's hard not to notice people—but the first time she remembers seeing him, he was reading aloud to her then four year old son. She was struck mute by how attractive he was and the image of him and her son. She hadn't known until that moment how sexy it was to see a father in action. He has a son, too, so he knew how to act around Henry, unlike many of her flings.

When Henry asked if they could go see the nice man at the library again, she readily agreed. She fixed her hair, touched up her makeup and wore tight pants to accentuate her best feature, only to find out he was taken.

You'd think the intervening five and a half years would have taken the edge off of her crush, but it's only made things worse. So yeah, she's not at all opposed to picking up her son from the library. They've spent hours and hours there over the years, and she's gotten to know him a bit better. They aren't close, mostly trading small talk, but she knows about his family, mainly his adorable son, and bits and pieces about his tumultuous relationship with his wife, Marian.

The things he tells her makes her think they aren't happy and haven't been for a long time, but she knows she's only getting part of the story, and he always apologizes for venting, like it's some sort of overstep. He and Marian will get in fights and "break up", he'll tell Regina it's for good this time, only to get back together with her within the week. Their breakups used to make her hopeful, but she knows better now, knows he'll always be the one she wants, but can't have. If this town wasn't so small and bereft of prospects, she'd be over him by now, but all the good ones are taken, and she's already tested out all of the ones that seemed to have potential only to be disappointed. She realized a couple of years ago she's better off single in this market. Even Mary Margaret, who used to be on her case about it, is finally coming around, realizing that there are just no good available men in Storybrooke. It's about time considering she had fewer prospects than Regina, as she was cut off from the only slightly better market of available women.

Regina can look, dream and yes, fantasize about Robin, but that's all it will ever be, and she's made peace with it, or has tried to anyway. She enjoys her trips to the library on the days he's working because there's no harm caused by her crush she'll never act on.

It's warm as she enters the library, and she spies a sign explaining the air conditioning isn't working. She feels her cheeks heat as she rounds the corner into the children's area, taking in Robin's ass as he bends to put away some books on a low shelf. It's a great view, he has such a good ass, and she can't help but admire it for a moment. He's in a thin white tank top and jeans, his skin shone with sweat in a way that she finds inexplicably and unbearably sexy.

He stands and turns, and she narrowly avoids being caught staring, only to have her eyes dart down to his toned arms. She loves his arms, loves when his clothing shows them off.

This is the only downside to her persistent singledom: her inability to keep her mind out of the gutter when she sees this man. She's never been this wanton before, but then, she's never been this hard up before either.

"Hey, Regina, how are you?" he asks, catching her gaze and misinterpreting it, thank god. "Yeah, not my usual attire, but it was so bloody hot I had to strip down to my undershirt so I wouldn't sweat through my shirt."

She tells herself to cool it when her first thought is _yes, please_ , and gives him a sympathetic smile. "Do you know when they are getting it fixed?"

"Should be tomorrow, so fingers crossed. I may have to report it to the mayor's office if it goes on too long," he tells her with a laugh. "This has to be a health and safety issue."

She laughs too, promising to work her magic if there is undue delay. He makes a joke about 'as long as it's before the clock tower gets repaired' that has her shaking her head as she goes off to find her son. She's had countless people look at that clock, and no one can figure out why it won't work. She thought clocks were supposed to be simple, but this one seems to perplex every repairman, so she let it go. It still bothers her, but she's done all she can.

She shouldn't dawdle so much gawking at Robin, so she makes her way to get Henry. She finds him easily. He's tucked in the back corner in a plush armchair he's in so often it's considered his spot. He begs her to let him finish the chapter, so she fishes out her phone and aimlessly scrolls through social media until he finishes.

He says goodbye to Robin, then to Belle, the main librarian. Belle avoids looking at Regina, as always, the product of an awkward one night stand years ago Belle still can't seem to get over, but gives Henry a friendly goodbye. Everyone here is fond of her son and it always makes her smile. No matter what people think of her, they always love Henry. She's blessed to have such a good and well-behaved boy. He is meddlesome though, always has been, and the way he asks her if she spoke to Robin makes her wonder if he's getting ideas about them, and if so, how obvious her unrequited crush is. She distracts him by getting him talking about his book, how Eragon has become a dragon rider now, and did she know the author came up with the idea when he was only fourteen? She didn't, and Henry tells her he wants to write a book when he's fourteen, so she does her best to encourage him, listening to and offering suggestions on his story ideas. He wants to write about the Evil Queen and Snow White, after she was woken up by Prince Charming. As he starts pitching her the idea, Regina is astounded by the creativity and brilliance of her son. He's been writing little stories since he was six, but this is much more mature and complex. He's a marvel, her son, and she does everything possible to ensure he knows that.

* * *

Henry Mills is by far his favourite kid who frequents the library. He knows he's not supposed to play favourites, but it's rare to see such a young child with a genuine interest in books and the library. He looks forward to Henry's near daily visits, keeps stock of the new books they get in, always prepared with a recommendation. He's glad the boy likes to reread, will read one new book, then go back and revisit an old favourite series because otherwise, Robin fears he would have exhausted the library's entire age appropriate collection already, which is actually extensive for a town this size. They get a generous anonymous donation for new book acquisition for the children's section, that he's fairly certain comes from the Mills household, and it warms his heart that rather than buy books just for Henry, she supports the library so all the children can have access to them. She has a bit of a reputation as a hard ass, but Henry's mom is a kind woman underneath her hard exterior. Anyone who's seen her with her son knows that.

He's not sure what it is, but something has Henry chatty today, has him singing his mom's praises. It started off when Henry told Robin his mom was meeting him here for lunch. They've only just loosened the no food rule, now having a designated area patron's can eat their lunch or have a beverage other than water. It's a battle he'd been fighting with Belle for the longest time, and finally won, as a part of his attempt to modernize their workplace.

Henry had started telling him how his mom makes the best lunches and can even make vegetables taste good, which made him laugh. Then went on to talk about how she's busy with her job but always makes time for the people she cares about. It was sweet really, and he'd given Regina a warm smile when she'd come to meet Henry. He somehow earned himself an invite to their lunch, one that he had to decline as he takes his lunch after Belle. Even if he'd had the time he wouldn't have wanted to intrude, but Henry is hard to say no to, so he's glad he had the excuse.

He rarely brings his lunch anyway, tends to call ahead and pick up from Granny's because he's too lazy to pack a lunch after work every night. He's gotten worse since he and Marian called it quits for good and she moved out. He was lucky a unit opened up in their building, because staying on John's couch the nights Marian wasn't working was not a permanent solution. Marian ended up taking the new apartment one floor down because her night shifts make it so Robin is the one that needs the second bedroom for Roland.

Now his summer days are spent at Mama's and his nights at Papa's, a change that hasn't phased his son at all. Summers were always harder with their opposite schedules, even when they lived together, but Marian only works two nights that he works and says the sleep deprivation is worth the extra time with their son. He takes him down to Mama's before work, and picks him up when he's done. If she's not working, sometimes Marian joins them for dinner, both wanting to keep the relationship friendly for their son.

When he gets back from his lunch, Henry makes a beeline for his desk. This happens sometimes, Henry can spend hours and hours, if not days, lost in books, but then he has these moments where he breaks for air and gets very social. Robin's used to it by now, though it's usually accompanied by Henry leaving the library and going off with his friends, which doesn't seem to be the case today.

It's no bother, he doesn't mind entertaining the lad, there's plenty of books to be put away, so he enlists Henry's help to get the task done. The last time they'd done this the conversation had been about his lion tattoo, this time Henry continues bringing up his mother and her finer qualities, until he asks a question that nearly makes him choke, "Do you think my mom is pretty?"

All of a sudden it all makes sense, Henry is trying to play matchmaker, but he's barking up the wrong tree. He is definitely not Henry's mother's type—Regina is into women, but he's sure as hell not going to be the one to break that to her son. He's seen her lip locked with a pretty blonde tucked in a corner at the Rabbit Hole, a place he hasn't seen her at in a very long time. He also remembers the day he saw Belle flush bright red in her presence years ago, later admitting they'd shared a passionate night together where Regina had rocked her world and Belle had been unable to… reciprocate. He shudders a little at the memory of that conversation, Belle is like a sister to him, and he knows far more than he wants to about her sex life because she gets chatty after a few drinks.

He's certainly not going to inform Henry of that, so he plays along, answering truthfully, "She is pretty; your mother is a very attractive woman."

Henry's face lights up with this grin that makes him regret his honesty. He doesn't want to lead him on but also doesn't know how to dash Henry's dreams.

"She's single, you know," Henry tells him, and he has to bite back a laugh. He's not exactly surprised by the directness, he is Regina's son, but it entertains him nevertheless.

"I did know that," he responds, wondering how far Henry is going to take this.

He gets his answer, rather expediently, when Henry suggests, "You should ask her out."

He shakes his head. Crap, he walked himself into this one, didn't he? "I'm not going to do that."

Henry frowns, and he can tell he's confused the boy, but there's nothing he can do about it. Of course, Henry follows up with, "Why not? You think she's pretty," as if it were that simple.

"It's not like that with your mom. She's a lovely lady, but I'm not interested in her in that way."

Henry's frown deepens, as much as Henry is mature, the complexities of attraction versus admiration are a bit over his head. He cocks a brow as he asks, "You aren't?"

He doesn't know why he feels bad, but he does. "Sorry, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm _certain_ she's not interested in me."

Henry lets it drop, and they move on to talking about the adventures of Harry Potter, Henry's favourite book series, one that has parts that are a titch too old for him but he sailed through nonetheless. Henry's a bright kid and has read above his age level for years now. It's funny to him because they started coming to the library because Henry was having trouble reading, but as it turned out, he just wasn't interested in what he was given to read. With a bit of time and the right story, he became a voracious reader. He thinks that's part of why he's so attached to him; he's seen Henry grow up here, seen how far he's come. Henry is the kind of kid that makes him love his job, and he'll be sad when Henry graduates up to the adult novels.

But he still has time before that happens, Henry's overjoyed because his mom agreed to a Harry Potter themed birthday party. Henry tells him to save the date, that he has to come, and he should bring Roland with him. His son will be thrilled by the invitation, and since he has Fridays off, he promises Henry they will be there.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry's ten now, and his tenth birthday has been a smashing success so far. She took an extra long weekend so she could be home on his actual birthday, which fell on a Thursday this year. She's offered to have his party that day, to celebrate on the actual day, but Henry had wanted to keep that day for them, making her heart swell. They'd had a great day: she made his favourite breakfast and then they'd headed down to Boston to see Angry Birds 2 (their small two screen movie theatre will get it in months from now and Henry hadn't wanted to wait). Then they'd taken a trip through the many bookstores, and she'd let Henry pick up ten new books, in honour of his tenth year. It's indulgent in a way her mother would have hated, but she's dead, and Regina is determined not be _anything_ like her mother.

Today is the party, a Harry Potter themed party she cursed herself for agreeing to from the moment she did, right up until the moment she saw it all put together. She's so lucky Mary Margaret is crafty and loves putting together parties because she could not have done it without her. They'd both spent hours and hours on Pinterest, the sheer volume of material available was overwhelming, but they'd managed to find a few favourites and put different activities and decorations together in a way that worked.

Her house (minus her bedroom because she does not want hyper children in there) is divided into different parts of Hogwarts for a large scavenger hunt they are having later. Henry's room is in the Gryffindor commons, since that's his house, the spare room is Slytherin, the study is Ravenclaw and the living room is Hufflepuff. All of the kids, except Henry, will get sorted later by drawing a house name from the hat and will meet at their commons to start the hunt.

Normally she tries to keep the kids outside as much as possible, especially on a beautiful day like this, but once she saw the scavenger hunt idea on Pinterest she knew they had to do it for Henry's birthday. It was a ton of work, but she knows it will be worth it.

There are some hoops set up in the backyard for a variant of Quidditch. Originally, they were going to go by the real life sport's rules, thinking it would be easier to play the already established game, but it became apparent rather quickly it was too complex and violent for a child's birthday party.

The kids seem to be having a good time with this game, wearing themselves out running around, trying to get the partially deflated volleyballs into the hoops. She's watching aimlessly from her lawn chair, ensuring that no one gets hurt while chatting with Mary Margaret about their success.

Robin's son Roland is on the field, running around, not helping his team at all, but still having fun. Robin's watching him from the opposite side, so she lets herself check him out for a moment. He's in a simple grey v neck t-shirt and jeans, and it's unfair how ungodly attractive he is like this: his hair gently mussed, the perfect amount of scruff and those dimples that make her swoon.

Her sunglasses hide her blatant ogling, so she keeps it up until Mary Margaret snorts beside her, and asks, "See something you like?"

She doesn't have to look at her friend to see the arched brow and teasing smile, but she does. "Just watching the game."

Mary Margaret tilts her head down, eyebrows raising, "Funny, I didn't see staring at a father of a player in the rulebook."

She rolls her eyes, "Ha ha, very funny."

"I don't get you, Regina. You've been into him for how long? Yet you've never made a move. You could have been married by now if you had."

Oh, Mary Margaret, always making things simpler than they really are and discounting obstacles. She wonders sometimes how they are such close friends when she is so practical, a realist, and Mary Margaret is decidedly not. "You're forgetting about Marian, wife and mother of his child. I'm not a homewrecker."

"Regina, they broke up in May, and it's August. She moved out and everything, it's _really over_ this time." That's new information to her, she knew they had broken it off again but she'd assumed they'd work it out like always.

"Wait, you didn't know?" She shakes her head, and Mary Margaret gasps, "Oh my god, I would have said something sooner but I assumed you already knew. This is your chance, make a move!"

"At my son's birthday party? No thanks."

"You don't have to ask him out today, but go, flirt. Please, it has been far too long. You need to stop letting excuses hold you back."

She almost responds with a biting comment about the hope speech, but she keeps it to herself because Mary Margaret is only trying to help, and she's right, Regina needs to make a move. She's not some shy little thing who is waiting for a man to come sweep her off her feet, she is confident, bold, and goes after what she wants. The only reason she hadn't done that with Robin was because he wasn't available, but now that he is, she's going to go for it. Worst case, he says no and then maybe she'll finally get over this crush. Better yet, he'll want her and she'll finally find out if the reality is as good as the fantasy.

She wishes for a moment she'd chosen something sexier today. She hadn't felt the need to impress anyone, (hadn't known the one she wanted was available) so she'd opted for comfort over style. She's dressed down, her hair up in a messy ponytail, an old band shirt she doesn't care about—one can never be too careful at a child's birthday—and cropped black leggings that have seen better days.

It's not like he hadn't already seen her in it though, so there's nothing she can do about her appearance now. Maybe this a better test anyway, if he's interested in her like this, then she'll know for sure.

She walks over to him, swallowing down a ridiculous set of nerves. She's out of practice, but she can do this, she had game before, and it's just like riding a bicycle.

It's not quite like riding a bicycle, but she does get it back as they talk, starting with easy topics like what a nice day it is and how much fun the kids are having. She playfully asks why he isn't out on the field, and he claims he'd give his team an unfair advantage, which she can't help but call him out on. Soon they are laughing and joking about her lack of athletic ability, and his overexaggerated one.

He tells her she looks good for someone who doesn't work out, and she's quick to correct him. She doesn't play sports, but she works for this figure. She starts most mornings with a run on the treadmill, does her squats and lunges, and some light weight training.

She angles herself so he has a good view of her ass, as she talks about her squats and lunges, and his eyes go exactly where she wants them. She tells him, "It's hard work to keep my butt looking this good," turning more fully so he has a straight on view of her best feature.

When she turns back his cheeks are flushed, and he lets out an awkward little snicker she finds absolutely adorable as he tries to stammer out that he wasn't looking before changing his tune to say, "It is a nice butt."

It makes her happier than it probably should that she led him into that, and she can't help but respond back, "Yours is nice, too." She lets her finger trail over his bicep, "As are these. What's your secret?"

He blushes harder then, tells her he does heavy lifting when he can, but really most of it comes from carrying his son, who keeps getting heavier as he grows. She laughs, remembering that with Henry, who like Roland, had always wanted to be picked up.

As if on cue, Roland runs off the field and asks to be picked up. Robin does so, grabbing him by the arms and spinning him around, which makes him squeal and her ache inside. It's inappropriate to find this sexy, she knows that, but she does.

Roland ends up perched on Robin's hip as he regales them with his version of what happened in the game. When he takes a breath she checks her watch and realizes they need to get moving. She looks over at Mary Margaret and they exchange a look, then she's blowing the whistle to end the game. She crowns Henry's team the winner, and they gather everyone to the table to get sorted.

She talks to the parents who are there, getting them to split off into different rooms so the kids are always supervised.

Everyone loves the game, and it ends up with Slytherin and Gryffindor in a near tie, with the Slytherins narrowly beating out the Gryffindor's by decoding the clue and making their way to the freezer to uncover the ice cream cake. It gives her a secret thrill, since that stupid quiz set her as Slytherin and had Henry making jokes for weeks about how she was "evil." He doesn't seem bothered his team didn't win, and all the kids are excited about the cake.

They sing Happy Birthday, and Henry blows out the candles, leaving two still lit after his first breath. This makes someone comment that it means he has two girlfriends, and Regina has to fight the urge to shudder over the idea of her son dating, let alone dating two people. Henry is still more interested in books than girls or boys, but she knows that won't last forever.

Henry loves his gifts, especially Balderdash from Mary Margaret, excited by the fact it says 12+ and she thinks he's mature enough to play, and Robin's gift of hard copies of some of his favourite Marvel comics. She'd gotten Henry a Marvel Unlimited subscription for Christmas last year after his list had twenty different comics on it. She knows he prefers them in print, but he reads them so fast, digital was the better option. Henry holds up Avengers vs. X-Men and Avengers Assemble for her, and she snaps a picture of him smiling gleefully, then another when he thanks Robin.

Henry gives both Robin and Roland a big hug when they leave, and Roland gives her one that has her missing, just for a moment, when Henry was that age. Her goodbye to Robin is far less physical, just a stupid wave and warm sentiment. If she plays her cards right, she hopes the next time they say goodbye will be a bit more heated. She's going to flirt with him all week, then by Thursday, she'll ask him out. She was never one for subtly, and she's not going to draw this out, either he wants her or he doesn't. And if he doesn't, well, he's off on Fridays, and she can make excuses not to come to the library the next week if her pride is still wounded.

She turns her attention back to her wound up son, who she definitely shouldn't have let have that second giant piece of ice cream cake. It's too late now to fix it, but there are still a few kids hanging around so hopefully, he can burn his excess energy off with them. There will be considerable clean up once everyone has left, but she thinks it would be wrong to try and channel all that energy into cleaning, given that this was his birthday party.

His friend Grace seems equally wired and they love her suggestion that they play a bunch of tag. She starts to clean up as she watches them run around, so grateful for the support of her friend who's picking up paper plates from her lawn. It's an arduous clean up, but worth it given how much Henry loved his party.


	3. Chapter 3

Roland has not stopped talking about Henry's birthday party. He has half a mind to ask Regina for tips for Roland's fifth birthday in early November, but he can't imagine that would go over well with Marian. He's always just done whatever she wants, with minimal input. Party planning is not his thing, and though he'd never say it to her, it's not Marian's either. She tries, but it never quite turns out how she wants it and there is always some disaster the day of. If Regina had one of those, it was well covered. He knows Mary Margaret helped a lot, had told her Roland was still singing the party's praises when she picked Henry up from the library last night. But he'd realized today he hadn't passed on what a success it was to Regina yet. He'll have to remedy that, if she makes it in, before he's off at six.

She does, rolling in at 5:05 in skin tight black leather skirt and a red tank top. There was a blazer before, he's sure, but there's not one now, and it's much more skin than he's used to. He's not normally one to admire her, as he knows she's off limits, but something about this outfit has him doing a double take. That skirt… wow.

"Better day than yesterday?" he asks.

She nods emphatically, stopping in front of his desk. "Oh god, yes, so much so. I didn't leave the office until ten last night."

He grimaces, "Ugh, that's not fun."

She shrugs, "Yes, well, it is what it is. How much better has your week been?"

She's funny, as always, and he can't help but laugh and tease back, "I'm not sure you want me to say." It was relatively boring, their evening employee, Happy (who's real name is Harold but no one calls him that) had come down with something, so he'd closed for him on Tuesday. It had been slow and Marian had dropped Roland off before going to work, so he'd made a night of it with his son, and got a bit of overtime pay he wasn't expecting. Plus, Roland had loved "working" with his Papa, and had talked them into him spending the morning at the library, which gave Marian a bit of extra rest. It's something he makes a note to talk to her about ongoing, as Belle has no problem with him bringing Roland to work with him for a bit, as long as he gets his work done.

"I think I might be jealous," Regina muses, and he brings his mind back to the conversation at hand.

"It's a great gig here. If you ever decide the mayor's office isn't for you, I recommend it."

She chuckles softly, "I doubt Ms. French would entertain my application."

He snickers, conceding, "That's probably true," which really is an understatement.

"It's a shame, really," she says, her hand flipping and one shoulder raising in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

He knows enough about the situation to keep this going, "I think you could _talk_ your way in if you really needed to." There's no question that Belle would succumb if Regina turned on the charms.

She arches a brow at 'talk', clearly knowing what he really means. He likes that about her, that she's so quick; it's a refreshing change. "I think I'd have to get her to look at me first."

"Just wear that," he says without thinking, then feels his cheeks heat. Crap. Well she looks hot, and let's be honest, she probably already knew it anyway.

A sassy smile blooms across her face as her tooth digs into her lower lip for a moment. "You like it?" she asks, giving him a little spin, showing off the back lacy part of the top. It takes a heroic effort not to check out her ass in that skirt, but he manages and is quite proud of himself. He knows she wouldn't be offended by it per se, she's made it clear she's confident in her body and how she looks, as she should be, but he'd hate to objectify her. She's a lovely woman he's known for years, an acquaintance, perhaps even a friend, not someone he lusts after, he's a better man than that.

"I do. You look great."

"Thanks." She seems to step in closer, but maybe he's just imagining it because he's suddenly hyper aware of her presence and good God, what is wrong with him? He needs to get a grip.

"Robin," she starts as he gets himself back in control, "I was wondering… would you want to have dinner sometime?"

He's making a stupid face, he can tell, but he was not at all expecting that. Clearly, she means as a friend and it shouldn't trip him up, but it has. "Oh, um… yeah, okay."

He watches as her face falls slightly, then hardens into a mask of perfect calm, her tone losing a bit of its warmth and going frostier. "If you don't want to that's quite alright, no need to spare my feelings."

Spare her feelings? What? Wait, was she asking _him_ out? Oh god, oh god, did he just…? He thinks back on all their recent encounters and that was _flirting._ Good lord, it's so obvious _now._ Wow, is he ever a moron. Shit, yes, he is an utter arsehole, he made an assumption about her sexuality like a right prat. Fuck, he's an idiot. He gets so caught up in berating himself he doesn't respond in time, and she says, "I should go," hightailing it off to get Henry before he regains his composure.

He could catch up with them, but he doesn't know what he would say. The thought of explaining what just went down makes him want to violently cringe. When did he become so awkward?

In his (slight) defence, he hasn't been in the dating game in eons, he was happily married, or at least married, for the bulk of his adult life. It's all new to him. That doesn't excuse his assuming that because Regina slept with Belle and kissed other women that she was gay, as if bisexuals didn't exist. It's painfully embarrassing to admit because he's ashamed of what he did, but he's not sure he wants to leave her with the impression he's not interested.

He never let himself think of her that way before. She's gorgeous, he's known and acknowledged that, and she's worn some things that were the stuff of wet dreams, but he's always felt that, he now knows it to be unnecessary, twinge of guilt when he looked at her _that way_.

He has things to do before he can leave, and it's not as if he can go to her house and explain because he needs to he get home to his rambunctious son. It's not until he puts Roland to bed, his son only falling asleep after _three_ stories, that he allows his mind to drift back to Regina. He'd thought of her, with a burn of embarrassment, as the night went on, but he'd pushed it away in favour of his other tasks. But now that Roland's in bed, he thinks back to that mortifying encounter, and the embarrassment is slightly less searing. He still feels like a colossal idiot but not quite as humiliated. He needs to deal with it, but it's not today's problem, so he lets himself really think about Regina Mills, with none of the preconceptions he'd imputed before. He thinks back to some of her other outfits, the blouses unbuttoned to show a tantalizing hint of cleavage, the tight pants that accentuated her perfect ass. Those oh so kissable lips, and that scar that makes her every expression more poignant.

As he mulls over her various sexy attire and expressions, his cock going hard from all the images he's now letting himself explore, he realizes just how badly he wants her. It takes a ridiculously short time to spill in his hand as he imagines her with him, above him, taking him inside of her. Any slight doubt he had over whether he wanted her that way is washed out by the intensity of his desire as he thinks of her.

It's hard to believe he was so blind to it before, but now that he knows, _he knows_ , he's not going to waste any time since he knows she wants him back.

* * *

He was off on the weekend (for the whole weekend, which is a rare as he usually works on Sundays) busy with his son, who managed to wear him out both days they spent together. He'd thought of Regina at night, once Roland was in bed, taking himself in hand again and stroking off to the thought of her like some overzealous teen.

He realizes when Tuesday rolls around and Mary Margaret fetches Henry instead of Regina, that she's avoiding him.

He doesn't blame her for that, couldn't after how he acted, but it leaves him in a bit of a bind. He's not the most courageous, and he'd sort of counted on her coming in, rather than him coming to her.

He ends up doing something completely stupid, taking two shots of "liquid courage," in lieu of his lunch at Granny's on Wednesday. Then he makes his way to the Mayor's office, knowing she's back from lunch, because Henry had gone to her office and returned well fed.

It's 1:25 by the time he makes it to her office, his nerves, the very small breakfast because he was running late and those two shots of whiskey mixing together to make him… fuzzy, in the best of ways. Not the best for his return to work in a bit, but oh well.

He has enough "courage" that he feels zero hesitation knocking on her door because her secretary, Kathryn, is away from her desk.

He hears the muted, "Come in," and makes his way into her office. It's as he opens the door, he realizes he's _never_ been in the mayor's office. She's sitting behind a grey desk that he really, _really_ wants to push her up onto and have his way with her. She's in this white dress and blazer, her lips painted a perfect red, god, is she ever gorgeous. It's nothing all that sensual, the high neckline not showing any skin, but all of his hormones have laid dormant until he realized how into her he was, and now they are exploding, and he cannot keep his mind out of the gutter. There are two chairs on his side of the desk he bets would make perfect perches for her legs if he spread her across the desk and buried his face in where she would be (at least in his fantasies) very wet.

He takes his mind from that inappropriate line of thought before he springs up and humiliates himself.

"Oh… Robin. What can I do for you?" she asks, her face the picture of professionalism even though he knows his presence is bothering her.

"I came to clarify something… I—"

She stands as she tells him, "There's no need, really, I got it."

But she didn't, and he steps farther into the room, letting the door swing shut and approaching the desk. "No, you didn't. I… god, I don't know how to say this."

She looks down, avoiding his gaze for quite possibly the first time ever. He shouldn't find her sudden shyness endearing, but he does. He gets closer, so he's right up against the desk on the opposite side of her. "Regina, I made a fool of myself, I—"

"No, you didn'—"

"No, I did." She scowls apprehensively, but allows him to continue without interruption, which he takes as a good sign. "I was… taken aback by what you asked." Her face twists and he rushes to assure, "Not because I didn't want to, I just…" he tells himself to power through this because she deserves his honesty. "I didn't think you were into someone like _me_. I made a mistake and thought… the better sex was your _only_ preference."

He's confused her, he should have been more direct. He's about to correct himself, when her face smooths out, and she comes around the desk asking far too amused, "You thought I didn't like men?"

He nods, fighting the blush that wants to rise in his cheeks.

She smirks, her eyebrows waggling in a way he should absolutely not find sexy but does. "Well," she says, her tongue peeking out between her lips for a second, "that changes things, doesn't it?"

He nods, finding himself entranced by her red lips. He wants to kiss them, wants to kiss her senseless, show her just how much he wants her. He thinks she might like that, based on how she licks her lips softly and steps even closer. He, too, steps in, and there's barely a foot between them. All he would need to do is step in a bit further and plant his lips on hers. He knows she wants it, can tell by the way her eyes flicker down to his lips. He's going to do it, he takes one step, then the door swings open and they both jump apart.

"Oh, sorry," Kathryn says, "I just… your two o'clock is early."

Regina nods, with reddened cheeks and Kathryn steps back out with another apology.

He looks down at his watch and shit, he needs to get himself some food and back to work. He lets out a breath and pulls all his courage to ask, "Regina, will you go out with me some time?"

Her face blooms into an adorable smile and she nods. "Friday night, dinner, my place. Henry's out with friends."

He nods, struck mute by the idea they will be on a date alone, without her son around. He doesn't want to be too presumptuous or to think about, lest he have a problem, so he bids her goodbye with an excuse he needs to get back to work. He gets his lunch and gets back to work, but his mind does not stop drifting to Regina and their date, two nights from now.


	4. Chapter 4

She's nervous in the best of ways as she makes them dinner. She knows they could have gone out, but well, the food in their small town leaves much to be desired, and she wanted to knock his socks off. Plus, they have the house to themselves, privacy that needs to be taken advantage of.

It has been two years since the last time she had sex, and even longer since the last time she had _good sex_ , and she's not about to let stupid conventions stop her from _finally_ getting Robin Locksley in her bed.

She changes once the lasagna is in the oven, everything else prepped and ready to go, into a tight, black flowered dress that makes her boobs look fantastic. Her black lacy push up bra adds to the effect, and she spent probably too much time arranging her cleavage, but the result is pretty fantastic. She looks hot, she took a chance on a new red lip shade, and she thinks it may be her new favourite.

Her only regret about them not going out is that she can't wear her heels, which would complete the outfit. Technically she could, but she won't, she's not wearing shoes around her own home.

He arrives just before seven, and she can't deny there's a skip in her step as she grabs the door.

He looks gobsmacked as he takes her in, and she feels a flush of pride that she's drawn this reaction out of him. He looks damn good too, he dressed up for the date, in a pressed light blue button down t-shirt, unbuttoned just enough to leave her wondering whether it's covering an undershirt, and dark dress pants. There's a bottle of wine in his hand, with a label she can't read, could, maybe, if she really stared but there are better things to look at.

They stand, drinking each other in hungrily for a moment before he steps inside with a comment about not letting all the heat in.

She arches a brow at that, commenting saucily, as her gaze rakes down his body again, "It has gotten hotter in here."

He chuckles, his lips curving up into an amused smirk, "Indeed it has. You look absolutely stunning, Milady."

"Milady?"

He shrugs, "I thought it suited you."

She disagrees, she is no lady, that's for sure. "What am I to call you then? Sir?" she asks with an arched brow that makes it clear she won't be doing that.

"I mean if you wanted, I wouldn't say no."

"I'd prefer someone who's less of a gentleman."

"I can assure you, with you in that dress, my thoughts are far from gentlemanly."

She smirks, good, that's what she wants. God, she's missed a good flirt, missed the sexual tension of a date with someone she's this attracted to. She lays it on a bit thick with her next comment, but he eats it up, and gives it back just as good.

They eventually leave the entrance, after he holds up that bottle of wine questioningly, moving into her kitchen. She takes the bottle from him, a little spark blooming just from the touch of their hands. She wants those on her, all over her, wants him to throw her onto the counter and fuck her right here.

But it's a little soon for that, and dinner will be ready shortly, so she opens the bottle, a cabernet sauvignon, and pours them each a glass.

They chat about their weeks, their sons' antics, then decide to put a moratorium on the things they normally talk about, and work to get to know a bit more about each other. They know a lot about certain aspects of each other's lives, but next to nothing about their parents, and lives before their children. She's surprised when he tells her of his checkered past, of time spent running from the law.

They try to pinpoint when they first met, knowing it had to be before she brought Henry into the library that first time, because they've both lived here for far longer, but they can't seem to figure it out. He mentions seeing her making out with a blonde at the Rabbit Hole, which she's fairly certain was pre-Henry (once she had a child her times out at a bar were few and far between), but she can't be sure when it happened. The oven timer going off brings that conversation to a halt and they never do figure out how they first met.

Since dinner is ready, he helps her bring everything into the dining room. By the time they finish eating, between ridiculously overblown flirtation, they've polished off that bottle of wine he brought. They open a bottle of dessert wine, in lieu of the actual dessert she'd prepped but hadn't bothered to throw in the oven once they realized they were both too full.

She learns Robin has never had dessert wine before, that he generally prefers whiskey and beer, but will drink basically anything. She laughs when his nose crinkles after taking far too big of a gulp of the ice wine, grimacing over the flood of sweetness. She takes a delicate sip, instructing him to sip it like a scotch.

"You drink scotch?" he asks, and though she can understand why he would ask, she still bristles every time a man assumes she wouldn't drink scotch.

She's not a huge fan of it, but that's not the point. "I do from time to time."

He looks intrigued, then grabs his glass and takes a small sip. She almost misses how he conceals a grimace, and laughs softly as she tells him, "It's not for everyone. I think I still have some scotch if you'd prefer that."

He says he doesn't want to be a bother, but as she tells him, she'd offered, so it's not a bother. When she finishes her glass, she goes to pour herself another and he offers up his, which she takes, because it's not as though she wasn't planning on sampling his mouth (and other things) later.

She's feeling the wine by the time they finish that round, conversation petering off into shared looks and a few silly innuendos that have them both laughing. A quick glance at the clock tells her they've been sitting here for hours, though it certainly didn't feel like it. She's having a great time, but it's getting late, and there are other things she wants to experience tonight.

Inside her chest is all warm, both from the wine and the thought of what's to come. She doesn't want to rush things, wants them to come naturally, but at the same time, she's been wondering what those lips would feel like on hers for half a decade.

There's a lull where they both look at each other, glasses empty and untouched. She should take those into the kitchen, but then she'll lose this nice view.

Robin looks down at his watch and grimaces, "I should get going…"

No, he should not, but he's a parent and she can understand if he needs to go fetch his son. She'd thought he'd be with Marian for the night, but vaguely remembers Robin saying something about her night shifts once so perhaps she's working.

"Do you have to?" she asks, and realizes how desperate it sounds so clarifies, "I mean do you need to relieve a sitter?"

He shakes his head, "No, John's with Roland and probably asleep on my couch already."

She snickers at that because, "It's 10:30 on a Friday."

"I know, but that man loves his sleep. He goes to bed at eighty-thirty during the week. Ten is staying up for him. We once decided to meet for drinks at eleven, and John declined because it was _too late_ and was so offended you'd have thought we planned this for four in the morning."

She snorts, then covers her nose and mouth as her cheeks go red. She'd meant to laugh, but instead, _that_ came out.

"You're cute when you blush," Robin muses, and she shoots him a glare because she knows she looks like an idiot right now.

"Yeah, okay," she says, finally getting up and grabbing those glasses so she can have a minute to compose herself.

She's turned away from him when he gets up, but she hears the scrape of the chair on the floor and knows he's following her in.

She places their glasses in the sink, intending to do them later, and turns away from the sink, backing up into the corner so she has a better view of him at the fridge. He's looking for a spot to place the bottle. He shoved the cork back in at some point, so the bottle is sealed, and she smiles at how thoughtful he is.

"Bottom left of the door," she tells him, and he puts it in the proper spot.

He surprises her by taking her former place at the sink, squeezing a little drop of dish soap into both glasses. She stands in the corner, checking out his arms as he washes the glasses. She can't wait to get her hands on them, to feel that firm muscle in her palm.

He puts the glasses into the strainer to dry and tells her, "I've had a really lovely evening, Regina."

That's it… that can't be it. He can't think he's leaving _now_ , without even kissing her. They are so close, she'd only have to take one step and lean in to meet their lips. If he's about to leave, why isn't he making that move?

She reminds herself he's been out of the game for a while, and it's not like she has a problem being the one to make the move. She never lets shyness get in the way of what she wants. She thinks he's just hesitant, uncertain and it's not that he doesn't want it. But she wants to be sure, never pushes if people aren't ready or are not into it. "I've had a lovely time, too, so why cut it short?"

His breath flows out heavily, and he looks at her, eyes flicking down to her lips, then the floor, and back up. "As much as I want to stay, and I do want to, my divorce, it isn't final yet. So I shouldn't…"

That's oddly sweet, but if it's her virtue he's concerned with, he needn't worry. She steps in closer, her hand reaching out for his on the counter. He sucks in a breath at the contact but doesn't pull away. He almost kissed her the other day, and he clearly wants her but just thinks he shouldn't because he's technically still married.

She keeps her voice low. "Robin, do you want to get back together with Marian?" He shakes his head softly. "So then what's stopping you?"

She means from kissing her, but Robin answers a different question, and she curses herself for not being more specific. "The paperwork is confusing, and lawyers are expensive. We said we'd sit down and figure it out, but we just haven't yet."

"That's not what I meant," she whispers lowly, and his mouth opens in an _O_ as realization lights up on his face.

"I… um, well… it's—"

He's hesitating, but he never removed his hand, and she knows he wants her, so she leans in and presses her lips to his. His lips are soft and warm against hers, and she feels the moment he relaxes into the kiss, how he starts to melt into her. Her one hand is still on top of his, and she brings her other to his arm, finally feeling that firm bicep. She feels a warm tingle in her stomach as their lips press together, the quiet, wet smack of their lips together is the only sound in the room until she grips at his arm, digging her fingers into the hard muscle, and he gasps faintly. The sound was barely audible, but was hot, and has her breath quickening. She kisses him harder, looping her arm around his neck to pull him in closer. She shivers when their bodies come flush together, his hand combing through her hair in a way she loves. When he reaches the end of her hair, his hand comes back up, and she sighs pleasantly as another shiver rolls down her spine.

His body is so warm and solid against her, he feels better than she'd imagined, and she lets her hands start to roam as she opens her mouth. He mirrors the action, and the hand that isn't in her hair slides down her back. She presses into his hand, loving the feel of his hands on her body.

They trade a few passionate open-mouthed kisses before his tongue teases at her lower lip, and he slips her his tongue. It's gentle and delicate at first but it becomes more frantic and desperate as their tongues begin to tangle. Her breath grows more ragged, her cheeks and lower belly heating in response to his kisses. He's such a good kisser, she can't remember a time she was this into kissing. He knows how to use his tongue, gives her just enough, but never too much. When he sucks gently on her tongue, she feels a pulse in her clit. She's starting to slick between the thighs and he's barely touched her.

She nips at his lower lip, and he groans in a way she finds erotic as hell, so she does it again, delighting when he repeats the same sexy sound. His hand finds her ass, squeezing in a way that makes her moan into his mouth, and that seems to spur him on. The hand in her hair tilts her neck giving him access to blaze kisses down her neck. She moans when he hits the good spot, and when he moves on, she uses a hand to guide him back, with a breathy command of, "There."

He follows her direction—thank god, this bodes well for the rest of the night—and flicks his tongue against that spot before nipping gently. She jerks in response, a harsh cry falling from her lips. It's intense, and almost too much, and has the ache between her thighs flaring. She presses her front closer into him, shifting slightly and feeling his erection against her belly. It seems she's not the only one desperately turned on by this, good.

When he returns his lips to hers, she leads the kiss, nibbling at his lip again, sucking his tongue this time, both of which grant her those low groans she's such a fan of. She wraps her ankle around his leg in an attempt to make him closer, but already he's snug against her. She trails her lips down his cheek to his jaw, doting kisses all the way to his ear before she breathes onto it and takes his lobe between her teeth.

"God, _Regina_ ," he whimpers, and it might be the hottest thing she's ever heard.

She keeps her lips pressed to his ear as she asks, "You like that?"

"Yes."

She smirks to herself, pleased at the reactions she's drawing from him. She grabs at his shirt, asking, "Can this come off?"

She feels his nod in agreement more than she sees it and steps back slightly so she can undo the buttons of his shirt.

"God, you're gorgeous," he breathes as her fingers undo his last button and push off his shirt. She's a bit disappointed to find another layer, a white undershirt blocking the plain of his chest, preventing her from scouring her nails down it like she wants. But as he shrugs it off the rest of the way she's given a better view of his shoulders and she kisses down his neck across his collarbone until she's onto his shoulder and gives it a soft suck.

He moans in response, breathing out a shaky, "Fuck, love," she doesn't think either of them were expecting.

She looks up at him, and god, is he ever a sight: pupils dilated, breath coming out hot and heavy, staring at her like she's the sexiest thing he's ever seen and he's seconds from devouring her. She wants him just as badly, pulls at his undershirt, and together they take it off.

As soon as it's off he goes back to that spot on her neck, makes her gasp and twitch with the way his tongue flicks against it midsuck. Holy hell, she needs to feel his tongue on her clit, needs him to put these skills to use lower down. She needs her dress off, his pants off, is tempted to drop down to her knees, pop open his belt and lick and suck at him until he's begging, but she can't bend that way in this dress, and that's why it needs to go.

She takes his hands and leads them to the zipper behind her back. He swallows heavily, but follows the trail up and slowly unzips her dress. The zipper stops just above her ass, but he keeps his hand trailing down, getting awfully close to where she really needs him, before moving it away, that tease.

That's okay though, because two can play that game.

She brings her mouth back to his ear, doing that thing he likes before asking, "Are you ready to see me naked?"

He shivers that, gasping out an, "Oh, fuck," that she knows means yes.

She steps back so he'll have a better view, then slowly peels the straps from her shoulders one by one. She keeps the second in her hand when she's done because she knows the moment she lets it go the dress will pool at her hips and she wants to draw this out a bit.

"Do you want this off?" she asks far too innocently as he eyes her ravenously.

"God, yes."

She arches a brow and teases, "Say please."

"Please, I beg of you, take it off."

She sucks in a breath at that, surprised by how hot the words are coming from him. She wants to hear him beg again, hear him not just say the words, but plead with her desperately, reach the end of his tether and _beg_ her for mercy.

She lets the dress fall, revelling in his heated gaze as he takes in her black lace bra. She pulls the dress down a bit, until it falls to the floor and steps out of it. The moment she does he's on her, his mouth hot and heady against hers, his hands roaming her now bare skin. He feels good as he discovers her body, has already picked up on the moan she lets out to tell him when he has a good spot.

His hands squeeze her ass cheeks, and she feels her soaked thong against her needy sex. They should go to the bedroom, but she doesn't want to lose his hands on her for a moment. He seems to have the same idea, because he breaks away for a moment. She seizes the opportunity to feel his hard chest, delighting in how the muscles jump under her palm. Before scouring her nails lightly down his pecks, just as she'd wanted.

"Jesus christ, love, are you trying to kill me?"

She smirks proudly, "Not kill you, just turn you on."

"Well, it's bloody working."

She knows, she can see how hard he is in his pants, and it has to be uncomfortable being so constricted.

She reaches for his belt but he stops her, "Should we, um, relocate?"

Since he's offered she decides they can fuck in the kitchen another time (though, really, this is the ideal opportunity since Henry's away for the night.)

She grabs his hand, starts to lead him to her bedroom, but he surprises her in the stairwell and presses her against the wall, kissing her fiercely, then scooping her up into his arms. He carries her up the stairs, letting her down so she can show him which room. He grabs her ass in his palm as she lead him to her bedroom, while muttering about how her ass is sinful and a crime, making her flush with pride and anticipation.

His lips find the back of her neck, hands skirting around her middle and up to her breasts as she opens the door to her bedroom. She leans back into him for a second, indulging, before stepping further into the room.

She sits down on the bed and commands him to take off his pants before joining her. His erection springs out as soon as he lowers his pants and she clenches as the sight of him so hard and so ready for her. She's about to tell him to lose his boxers too when he slides on top of her, his hands busy behind her back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra.

He lowers his pelvis onto hers and grinds slightly against her clit, and it's about the best thing she's ever felt. She is so wet, so needy, and her clit is _so sensitive_ , sometimes annoyingly so, but this is perfect.

She whimpers softly as he moves down her body once he has her bra off. He kisses down her chest, pausing to suck at her nipples, and it's nice she supposes, but not what she wants. Having her nipples licked, sucked or played with doesn't really do anything for her; she wishes it did, is jealous of the women she's been with who gasp and moan at it, wishes she could experience that just once.

Her clit is throbbing now, and she's dying for attention further south, so she pushes his head down. He gets the message, starts to descend down her stomach, and the muscles twitch with anticipation.

His hand lightly brushes over her clit as he moves to take off her thong, and it feels so damn good she has to bite back a moan. She's fucking close already but is enjoying the ache, wants to draw this out just a bit longer, make the eventual orgasm that much more explosive.

Once he slides off her thong, he starts kissing up her thighs.

"Oh god, yes, fuck, keep doing that, so good," she tells him breathily, happy when he complies. A partner who takes direction is the best kind in her book. She knows what she likes and how she likes it, and she's not one to keep quiet if something isn't working for her, or if something she does like is skipped over.

She gets even wetter as he lavishes kisses on her thighs that have her gasping and moaning, her hips writhing against the sheets.

He slips two fingers inside her, and they go in easily with no resistance. He starts to piston them in and out, but he's not hitting anywhere of use. It feels nice, sure, but not explosive, not yet. She shifts to try to get him to the right spot, but it doesn't work.

"Up and to the left," she pants, and he looks up at her quizzically. "Your… your fingers. P-press and curl."

He pushes them in all the way and does as she'd asked, and it's better, but still not quite right. He gives her a few testing thrusts, and she clenches, crying out louder than necessary when he gets it to let him know.

In case that wasn't obvious enough, she gasps out a, "There," then loses herself to the pleasure as he firms up the pressure. "Yes, fuck, like that, don't stop."

"You like that?" he asks, and she moans, nodding frantically because does she ever. It's good, so good. "Are you going to come all over my hand?"

"Mmm, yes, but more, and harder," she tells him, because she knows it can be even better, and he gives her what she needs, slides in a third finger that stretches her deliciously and starts moving his fingers faster. God, does it ever feel amazing. She's close, just needs the tiniest bit more, so she moves her own hand down to stroke the hood of her clit softly. She tremours immediately, pants and gasps as the pressure quickly builds up inside of her and explodes out in a hot rush of blissful sensation. Her hips buck wildly and she cries out at each press of his fingers draws out the wave, sending heat flashing through her.

She rides the wave until she can't anymore, letting her hand fall away, as his fingers continue thumping away inside her, drawing out the pleasure.

When she starts to settle, he slides his fingers out and ghosts them over her far too sensitive clit, making her jerk and hiss, "Too much."

"Sorry, love," he tells her breathlessly, bringing his lips to meet hers in penance.

They kiss and kiss as she comes back to herself. She lets her hand roam down his body, stroking him over his boxers delighting in the way he groans and shivers on contact. They make quick work of his boxers, then she flips them, wanting to be on top and in charge when they finally come together.

First though, she kisses down his chest, taking him in her hand as she gives his pecks little nibbles that make his cock twitch in her grasp. The skin of his cock is so soft and smooth in her grasp, in sharp contrast to how hard his erection is. He could cut glass with this thing, and she cannot wait to feel it inside her.

He tenses as she continues her descent down his body, licking the line from his hipbone down, and repeating it on the other side.

He groans when she removes her hand, licking down the length of him and swirling back up. He's so warm and ready; she can only manage a few quick sucks before she pulls off and straddles him.

"Do we need—" he asks, but she cuts him off.

"I can't get pregnant, and I'm clean, unless you want—"

"No!"

With that settled, she lines him up with her and sinks down slowly. They both moan as he fills her, and she leans in for a kiss as she takes him in fully. When he's buried in deep, she pauses for a moment, enjoying the fullness. She rocks her hips more than thrusts at first, to keep that feeling, but when he bites his lip and begs her to fuck him, she can't resist.

She pulls up so he's almost out of her, then slides back down, building her rhythm steadily until she's fucking him hard and fast. He feels fucking perfect inside of her, each thrust sending a blunt stab of pleasure up through her centre. It feels just as good for him too, she can tell by the way he's gripping at her hips, and moaning encouragements into the space between them. She leans down to claim his lips and it shifts the angle so it's somehow even better.

She breaks from the kiss on a, "OH, fuck, mmm."

"God, love, you feel…" he keeps shifting his gaze from watching her breasts bounce to where they are joined. She loves the way he looks at her, she normally closes her eyes, but he looks so hot taking them in, she can't look away.

"Tell me."

His eyes flit to hers for a second, "How it feels?" She nods, "Oh, fuck, god, sooo good. So wet, warm, and—Ah—you look fucking fantastic riding me like this, feels so damn good."

"Yeah, mm… I feel, ah, the same… so good."

She leans down to kiss him again and it's all grunts and moans between kisses as she rides him again and again, until she breaks from a kiss on a moan, clenching around him in a way that makes him bite at his lip and he tell her, "Fuck, love, you feel bloody amazing. I can't—Are you close?"

This feels incredible, and while another orgasm certainly isn't out of the question, she's not on the edge but would be with a bit more time. If he's nearing the end of his tether, it's not going to be enough for her.

In an effort to help, he brings his fingers to her clit, but with far too much pressure and instead of being pleasurable, it's uncomfortable. She grimaces, pushing his hand away, stopping her movements for a moment.

"Too much, I'm… my clit is so sensitive, you can't… not so hard."

"Sorry," he breathes, and it's fine, it's certainly not the first time it's happened to her. She's only annoyed because this little mishap seems to have broken the mood a bit, and she much preferred when he was desperate for her.

To get it back, she begins to move a top him again, relishing his soft moan and encouragement of, "Yeah, love, like that."

She builds back to that good pace, and she starts to feel her orgasm build. The way his cock thumps against that spot inside her has heat growing, makes her gasp and moan into the space between them. It's good, _so good_. She takes his hand, guides it gently over her clit in the way that has sparks flying out, and makes the pleasure of him hitting that spot sharpen. He keeps it up, those soft, slow strokes over the hood of her clit as she starts to fuck him faster, deeper, her hips twitching. She needs to relieve the pressure inside her. She's so close now, everything tensing up, her inner walls gripping him tightly as she approaches the edge.

"Oh, fucking god, love, you feel so damn good. So tight on my cock right now. I can feel how badly you need it. Let it go, come for me. Let me see it."

He keeps up his hot as hell encouragements until she falls off the edge, her hips stuttering as she comes hard, pleasure flooding her senses as she cries out wordlessly and rides out her release.

His strangled groan of completion comes midway through her orgasm, and she's barely aware of it at first, but as she starts to come down, she feels him start to seep out of her. The realization causes an aftershock to rip through her, and she clenches at the wave of pleasure, which makes him groan deeply.

She collapses on top of him, resting her head on his warm chest as her breathing starts to slow.

"God, that was good," he mutters lowly some moments later, and she nods her agreement into his chest. Yes, yes it was.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, how was your date?" Mary Margaret asks with an impish smile over brunch at Granny's. The place is packed, but they arrived before the crowd and tucked into a secluded booth so they do have a bit of privacy. Not enough for this conversation, however, considering her son is sitting with them and eyeing her curiously. She could kill Mary Margaret for bringing this up in front of Henry as she's been shooting down his questions about the date all weekend.

School starts tomorrow, and they've made a little tradition out of having brunch together, the three of them, before things get crazy.

"It was… good." Fucking fantastic to be honest, she's still a little tender from the way they'd come together over and over again. Every time she thinks of him, she feels a flush of warmth remembering his lips on hers, the way he kissed her thighs, the feel of him inside her. They'd done it again in the morning, twice, and she'd swung by on Sunday on her way back from the grocery store and ended up half naked and pressed up against the door. Those are not the details she's going to be sharing with her son, though.

"Just good?" Henry asks, and she silently curses her friend again for bringing it up.

"It was great, but also none of your business, Mister."

Mary Margaret grimaces at that, seeming to realise now was not the time. Henry sighs dramatically before telling her, "That's not fair, you always say that."

"That's because it's true."

"Maybe I'll stop telling you about my life, then."

She can tell from the mischievous grin on his face he thinks he has her, but Henry is not one to keep a secret, he likes to talk, has always wanted to share—she's pretty sure he got that from Mary Margaret. She doubts he would be able to keep things from her. Still, she humours him, "Well, I wouldn't want that, but there really is not much to tell, we had one great date."

"Are you going out again?" Henry asks resting his head on his fist. She's tempted to tell him to get his elbow off the table, but a look at Mary Margaret shows she's in the same position, leaning in to get the scoop.

That she can answer, "We're meeting for lunch tomorrow." It's Roland's first day of school, and Robin's both nervous and excited about it, a feeling she remembers quite well. She's a distraction, a way to make the day go by a little faster, and if it goes how things have been going, it will be a very _pleasant_ distraction.

"Awesome," Henry breathes, and it makes her nervous. She knows he loves Robin and that he's rooting for this to work. As much as she would be disappointed if it didn't work out, she thinks Henry might be even more so. She shouldn't have told him she was going out with Robin, should have kept it to herself until she knew where this was going, but she didn't and she can't change the past.

When Henry excuses himself to the bathroom she gives Mary Margaret a quick low down on the date, and just how _great_ it was.

"Ugh, I kind of hate you right now," Mary Margaret tells her once she's finished, and she laughs.

"What's going on in your love life, anything?"

Mary Margaret shakes her head. "Literally nothing. Dr. Whale must have created a new Tinder because I found him again—"

"Please tell me you did not swipe right."

"I didn't, no, god no, I learned my lesson after the last time. But Regina, it's so bad the other day when I was volunteering at the hospital, for a brief moment _the guy in the coma looked hot_. I just want to meet a nice guy, settle down and have kids, why is that so hard to find?"

Henry comes back at that moment and tells her, "I think you'll meet your Prince Charming soon."

They both laugh at Henry's optimism, and the fact that he intentionally or not called Mary Margaret out on wanting a fairytale ending.

* * *

"So how was lunch with my mom yesterday?" Henry asks him, and Robin flushes as he thinks of how he splayed Regina out on her desk and feasted on her, just like he'd fantasized about that first time he went to her office. They never got around to actual food, but she'd been prepared for that and sent him back to work with a turkey sandwich he managed to scarf down on the walk.

"I don't think your mother would care for us discussing this."

Henry makes a face, "Did she tell you that?"

No, but that confirms his suspicion Henry's been badgering Regina. "She didn't need to, I know you both well enough to figure it out."

"See, this is why you guys are perfect for each other."

He chuckles at Henry's enthusiasm but makes a note to discuss with Regina. He really likes her, but he doesn't want anything to jeopardize his relationship with her son. He's sure she feels the same way, but he needs to know they can go back to being friends for Henry's sake if it all goes south.

"I don't know that we're perfect…"

"I think she's your soulmate."

Soulmate, that's a new one, he wonders what book Henry got that out of, "You believe in soulmates?"

"Mhm, and you are my moms, I know it."

He doesn't know how to respond to that. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

Henry grins, "Wanna bet?"

He feels his eyebrows raise as he bites back a little laugh, trying to conceal his amusement. "You want to bet on whether your mom and I are soulmates?"

"Yeah, you give me twenty bucks if I'm right."

"How _exactly_ will you prove you are right?"

"Let me worry about that," Henry says smugly. Alrighty then, why not, this will likely be entertaining.

"How do I prove it if I win?" This seems like a rather elaborate scheme to get twenty bucks out of him and push him even closer to Regina.

Henry freezes at that, his brows knitting and lips pursing as if he hadn't considered that. "Um… well… hmm… I'll have to get back to you."

He laughs, shaking his head, Henry is such a character sometimes.

"Um, excuse me," an unfamiliar male voice interrupts from across the room. Robin looks over to see a blue eyed man around his age, in a dark leather jacket and pants holding a helmet in his hand.

He's never seen this guy around town before so approaches with an outstretched hand. "Hi, Robin Locksley, the children's librarian, how can I help you?"

The man's gaze flicks down to the tattoo on his wrist and back up, before taking his hand and shaking it. "August Booth. I'm trying to find a place to stay while I'm here."

"Ah, Granny's just up the street, has a bed and breakfast, that's the only option in our town."

"Okay, thank you."

He's nosy, and he can't remember the last time Stroybrooke had a random visitor, so he can't help but ask, "What brings you to Storybrooke, Mr. Booth?"

"I'm a writer, trying to finish up my book, and this town is full of inspiration."

"What are you writing about?" Henry asks curiously.

"That is for me to know," August says, before turning on his heel and walking out of the library.

Henry looks at him, and he returns the weird look Henry's giving him, a silent acknowledgment that yes, that was a very odd encounter.

* * *

He has another odd encounter weeks later, once the leaves have started to change and the air grows frigid at night, this time with Marian. She'd been acting rather distant and cold, focusing only on Roland and completely ignoring him as they all had dinner together. He had thought she was going to decline from the way she hesitated when he asked her to stay, so he wonders if she's just having an off night. He's barely seen her all week, she'd been seemingly too busy to give her usual update on how Roland behaved for her, dropping him off and picking him up in near silence.

He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now he's wondering if something more is going on.

He gets his answer once they've tucked Roland into bed and read him a story about goblins until his eyes stopped fluttering and his breathing slowed.

Marian surprises the hell out of him when she says darkly, "It was nice of you not to tell me you were dating. I wasn't expecting to have _that_ sprung on me, especially by my own son."

He's not in the habit of telling his exes when he dates someone new—not that he even really remembers anyone significant before Marian. But he will admit this is different than your typical breakup, they are still very much in each others lives as co-parents.

"I didn't think I needed to run it by you, we aren't together anymore."

She scoffs, "I wasn't asking you to run it by me. I was asking for some consideration and for you to tell me your damn self."

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't, that was an oversight I honestly didn't think about it. But why are you so upset?"

He just doesn't understand why this is such a big deal, perhaps he should have told her, but even so, that infraction doesn't warrant this level of anger.

"Wow, Robin, way to make me feel like my feelings aren't valid, yet again."

Oh god, this again. He fights the urge to roll his eyes because he knows that will only make it worse. He can't ask a simple question about why she's feeling what she does without being accused of trying to discredit her feelings when all he's really trying to do is understand her better. But they've fought about that (and basically everything else there is to fight about) a hundred times, and it's not worth getting into it again.

"For fuck's sake, Marian." Okay, this is definitely not what he should be saying, but oh well, too late to go back now, "not this again."

"I wouldn't have to bring it up if you hadn't gone off galavanting with your new girlfriend with no care for how I felt."

Good lord, this is ridiculous. "Well, how do you feel then? Enlighten me."

She's going to yell at him, call him an ass, some other insult, or make a comment about how she shouldn't have to explain, he knows it. They've done this countless times and you'd think things would change but they never do.

He's flabbergasted when what she says next is, "I still have feelings for you."

"I… what?"

She bristles then, "Don't be so surprised. We're still married, forgive me for thinking we had a shot at making things work."

They are still married because neither of them have made the effort to start the process, (he really should get on that) but that's neither here nor there because, "We weren't happy, Marian. We haven't been happy for a long time. Why would you want to get what we had back?"

Marian looks fraught and she's grasping at straws. "Because… we've… I don't know how to not be with you."

He feels for her, that's a big part of the reason they stayed together for so long, why they kept coming back together after swearing it was over for good. But that pattern, what they were doing, it wasn't healthy, it wasn't good for either of them, or for Roland. She has to know that.

"I loved you, I did, but all we've done for the past few years is make each other miserable and we deserve better than that. I want more than that, and I want more than that for you. Once upon a time we were great together, but that ship had sailed and we have to let it go."

Her face is soft and pleading, the one he always used to give into because he can't stand to hurt her. "We could be great again."

He hates what he's about to say, but he knows it's true. "No, we can't. I'm sorry, I really am, but it's over. It's been over for a long time."

Marian looks down, and when she looks back up at him there are tears in her eyes, and he feels awful knowing they are because of him. He never ever wanted to hurt her, but he has over the years, just as she's hurt him. It took a long time for him to realize the best thing to do was to walk away for good, he didn't want to keep hurting her. He hates that he's doing it again, but he knows in the long run that this is necessary.

"I just…" she starts breaking off on a choked sob. He longs to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, feels utterly useless as he stands unmoving. "You are already moving on and I… Didn't I mean anything to you?"

He loses that battle he's been fighting not to comfort her and rushes to her side, taking her hands in his as he tells her, "You meant everything to me. You still mean so much to me. We just aren't meant to be, and I'm sorry, I am so sorry I wish we were, I wish it turned out differently. But the way we were living wasn't living, it wasn't good for either of us. Haven't you felt better without all the fighting?"

She sniffles as she nods, and he reaches for the Kleenex box on the counter, passing her one, just as he has so many times before. "I just… I thought it would be easier, you know? I'm so lonely and it sucks and… I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"Maybe it's time to put yourself out there."

She shakes her head immediately. "God, look at me, I'm not ready. I was so used to having you and Roland around constantly, always having someone to talk to. It's an adjustment. I've realized I don't really have any friends…"

"John and Will—"

"Those are _your_ friends—"

"No, you have your own relationship with them. Besides ninety percent of the time I'm convinced Will likes you better than me."

His jokes succeeds in breaking the tension. "Ninety?" she asks with a hitched chuckled, "try one hundred."

"My point exactly, that man loves you. _You_ are his best friend, and he would do anything for you. Might kill me after tonight, to be honest."

She laughs softly, then blows her nose, discarding the Kleenex when she's finished. "Yeah but, I don't have any girlfriends, people I'd turn to to talk about my breakup with."

He's tempted to say then make some but he's well aware that would be received poorly. He's never had a problem making friends, but he knows Marian struggles getting to know new people. The only woman he can think of she's somewhat close with is Belle, who she met through him. He vaguely remembers her mentioning a coworker, "What about… Mulan, was it?"

She sighs, "I mean I know her, I like her. We have a lot in common, and I want to be closer friends…"

"So what's stopping you?"

She shrugs, "Honestly, I don't know."

"Well, then, sounds like you should reach out." She shakes her head at him, her practically patented 'you're an idiot' look on her face. "I just want you to be happy. I know we're in a weird place now, but I do want to be your friend, I just don't really know how."

She smiles then, for the first time all night. "I want that, too," her face goes sad and wistful as she asks, "Are you happy?"

Maybe he's an ass for admitting it, but he is, and he's always been honest with her. "I am."

"Good," she says softly, "I want that for you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

September and October flew by in a rush of work, after school activities for Henry, incredible sex, and moments of domestic bliss with Robin and Roland. She's never had this, never had a relationship she fell into so easily where they came together so naturally. Two weeks ago they spent the weekend decorating her house, carving pumpkins and watching "scary" movies (Roland is only four and Henry gets terrible nightmares, so nothing actually scary), and it was one of the best weekends she's ever had. It's already starting to get cold, dropping below freezing the other night, which would normally have her miserable and lamenting the end of fall, but she's so happy she can't be bothered to be annoyed by the change of weather, and certainly not with Robin's excitement about the winter and all the activities he wants them to do once it snows. She's already so accustomed to having them around, it seems natural to make plans like that, to start thinking about spending the holidays together. She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it all to get destroyed, but she's blissfully happy in a relationship for the first time in what feels like forever. It's been just over two months since their first date, and they fit together so easily it's almost like they were always together.

Like tonight, they are out Trick or Treating with their sons. She never thought this would be an activity she'd want to share with a partner, wouldn't have with any of her exes (not that any of them lasted long enough for her to have even considered it), but she wants to share these things with Robin. She wants him to experience the holiday with Henry and wants to experience it with Roland. Wants to go out, the four of them, like a little family and take photos of their sons enjoying their night.

Roland did a quick tour earlier with his mother before she headed off to work, so he regales them with stories of the other houses he'd visited as they make their way down Mifflin Street. He looks hilarious in his costume. He'd told her last week he was going as a fan, and she's thought a different kind of fan right up until she saw him in all his glory with his box and fan blades. He says he's going to be a ceiling fan next year to be different, and it's a miracle she doesn't burst out laughing. Her and Robin trade amused looks but manage to bite back their laughter so Roland doesn't get offended.

Henry is decked out as Captain America, is loving being America's hero. He's told her that her cat ears were lame next to his costume, and he wasn't wrong, but she didn't care. She goes all out for his costume, but she could not care less about hers, only puts in minimal effort because "it's lame if she doesn't dress up," at least according to her son.

She's apparently made one too many Robin Hood jokes over the course of their relationship because Robin is wearing this ridiculous fox onesie paired with a bow and arrow and a green hat. He probably would have stolen the show humour wise had it not been for Roland's fan costume. He keeps making these cracks about everyone's costumes, these bad corny puns she should not find as funny as she does. She doesn't think anyone has ever made her laugh as much as Robin does. His jokes are very much dad jokes, but they are consistently funny; he's extremely quick-witted and prone to self-deprecation.

When he asks her if he's "foxy enough" for her she nearly loses her mind. It's not even that funny, but the way he poses, with one arm out and flexed, a silly pout on his face, makes it comical. She manages to snap a picture before devolving into giggles, then laughs even harder when both boys tell them that they are weird and that wasn't funny.

She loves how the boys will team up on them, how they've started to have their own inside jokes. She would have thought the age difference would be a problem, but Henry always wanted a sibling and he takes to a big brother-esque role like a champ.

He doesn't once complain about their slower pace around the neighbourhood because of Roland's shorter legs. Instead, he walks with him, holding Roland's hand and leading him around. It's so heartwarming seeing her son this way, and it awakens a desire in her that's long been dormant.

She always wanted a big family, but it wasn't in the cards for her. She can't have children, and she's been more than satisfied with her incredible son. But now, seeing him acting like a brother, she wants another one desperately. It's not something she and Robin have discussed, not really, but if down the line he was open to it, she'd adopt another child in a heartbeat. She could do it on her own again, knows she can handle it, but she wants to experience that with him. It's crazy, and it's a way, way too soon thought that she should push away but can't seem to.

That feeling is not helped at all when she watches Robin scoop Roland up when they finish up in her neighbourhood and go into town. He's giving Roland's little legs a break, and they make it to the next houses much faster because of it.

They alternate carrying Roland, letting him down at each house, so he can walk up by himself.

The make it all the way to Mary Margaret's building before Roland starts to fade, his eyes drooping and his body sagging into her shoulder adorably. It's drizzling lightly, not the best weather for Halloween, but the boys were undeterred. They've walked around more than enough for her, a chill is starting to set in, and she longs to sit down and warm up. She's always pushed through for Henry, so he can get the experience he wants, but now she has Robin. He glances at her and Roland half asleep in her arms and suggests she take Roland back to her place to sleep, which she is more than happy to do. She leaves Henry and Robin to complete the rest of the Trick or Treating.

Roland grows heavier in her arms as she walks back to her place and is out cold by the time she opens her door, which she's grateful for. She was worried he would wake up and be upset that he was missing Halloween, but she's able to get him into the bed in the guest room (the one she's come to think of as his) without him waking up.

She changes out of her costume into leggings and a sweater shirt, throwing a little treat on underneath she'd bought for Robin. Then she fixes herself a drink and waits for them to come home.

They stay out later than she probably would have, especially with the rain. Robin texts her when they are on their way back, so she has two mugs of hot chocolate (one Irish) waiting when they arrive.

Henry dumps out his bag onto the table and starts sorting. She knows better than to interrupt his process, but Robin doesn't and manages to get himself a scolding from her son. She laughs when both of them give her 'can you believe this guy?' looks at the same time after the scolding ceases.

It strikes her, not for the first time, how lucky she is that Henry and Robin get along so well. She can't imagine this going so well if Henry hadn't been on board and such a fan of Robin's already.

She already trusts Robin more than almost everyone in her life (the exception being Mary Margaret, of course, who's been helping her with Henry since they day she adopted him, was the one who encouraged her to do it, to go after her dream of having a child despite being an infertile, single woman.) Instead of being scary she finds it almost freeing. She's falling for him, and she's fairly certain the feeling is mutual. He goes out of his way to tell her how much he enjoys her company, how happy he feels being with her. The insatiable passion they had at the start of their relationship has waned into something more, something better. They are just as satisfied cuddled up in bed talking. They can connect on more than just a physical level, though they still embrace the physical more often than not.

It's comfortable and comforting, and she basks in the intimacy of it all. She never imagined it would be this good, this easy.

* * *

He's in love with her, hopelessly passionately in love with Regina Mills. He really needs to finalize his divorce, because he is all in with another woman. He never expected to fall so fast after ending things with Marian, and never imagined Regina would be the woman to steal his heart.

He feels a little guilty over how happy he is with her when Marian seems to still be mourning their relationship. He's at least heartened to know she took his advice to heart and has been spending lots of time with new friends, including her coworker Mulan she'd always admired.

He's happy he's been able to maintain a friendship with Marian, happy Regina understands why he wants to, and supports him in that decision. He doesn't love Marian anymore but she's the mother of his child. She is the second most important woman in his life, and Regina respects that. He saw her bonding with Marian at Roland's fourth birthday party the other week, both helping Roland build a small snowman out of the dusting of snow they'd received the night before, and it took his breath away. She's never once been jealous of the relationship he has with Marian, and it only makes him love her more.

She even went as far as offering they all have Thanksgiving dinner together. She always eats with Mary Margaret, and he and Roland are invited, but she hadn't wanted to take away their family celebration.

Marian has to work tomorrow night, so she declined, but he suspects she would have anyway even if she had been free, which would have left him in a bind, and he's not sure what he would have done.

But as it is, he didn't have to, so he, Marian and Roland are having a Thanksgiving dinner tonight, then tomorrow they celebrate with Regina, Henry and Mary Margaret.

After they eat, Mulan shows up with wine and an apology. Apparently Wednesday night's are girls nights and she'd forgotten about their dinner (or Marian had forgotten to mention it and she's covering for her). She tries to leave, but he urges her to come in, stay a while. It takes Roland's, "Yeah, come play with me," to get her in the door, and once she's in, she stays.

He has a nice time getting to know more about her. He understands why Marian has always been so fond of her, Mulan really is incredible. When Mulan grabs Marian's hand during a story, he catches the faint blush that crosses her cheeks and he starts to pay more attention to the two of them. Because he's looking, he catches the way they look at each other when they think no one is watching, and it's cute. He wonders how long they've been dancing around the obvious attraction they have for each other and what it will take for them to take the plunge.

When Mulan leaves for the night, he tells Marian that she should tell her how she feels. At first she tries to deny it but soon relents and admits that yes she's attracted to her, but she doesn't want to lose the friendship. He encourages her to go after what she wants, and she tells him perhaps he should take his own advice.

It's only after he gives her a confused look she explains, "I'm not the only one in this room that needs to tell a woman how they feel about her."

She's right, he's in love with Regina and needs to tell her. He doesn't know how she knows that, but then they were together for the bulk of their adult lives, she may know him better than anyone else. She knows from experience he'll sit on this for far too long if left to his own devices. He doesn't know why he has a hard time admitting his feelings out loud, but he always gets so concerned about it, so worried he'll be pressuring his partner, he talks himself out of saying it.

He doesn't want to do that again, doesn't want to sit on the words that keep to the tip of his tongue every time he sees Regina. Even if she's not there, he has nothing to fear, and if she is, he has everything to gain.

He thanks Marian for the advice, tells her she's right and they have this moment where they laugh at the oddity of this situation, of them as exes encouraging each other to go after other women. The encouragement must mean he has her blessing, and that eases a lot of the guilt he's been feeling. He really wants it to work out for her and Mulan, wants more than anything for her to be happy, and he does think Mulan could be that person for her.

They make a pact to do it by the weeks end, to put their feelings out there and deal with whatever the consequences are. They've offered each other a shoulder to cry on if needed, but god, he hopes neither of them need it. They shouldn't, he feels secure in his relationship, and by the way he watched Mulan check Marian out, he cannot imagine she'd reject her advances.

Tomorrow some time, when they celebrate what they are thankful for, he's going to tell the woman he loves that he loves her. It's sort of poetic, because she is what he's thankful for.


	7. Chapter 7

She's extraordinarily blessed this Thanksgiving, she has her incredible son, an amazing best friend, and a wonderful man and his son who have stolen her heart. She'd spent her morning watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade with Mary Margaret and Henry, indulging in maybe one too many mimosas in the morning and carrying a slight buzz all day.

They'd all eaten their faces off, Mary Margaret once again teasing her for making too much, as if having leftovers for days wasn't part of the Thanksgiving experience. Robin hadn't batted an eye at the size of the Turkey or the many sides—she makes the staples: mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, a simple salad and rolls—but he had made a comment about her two desserts, even though he'd taken a slice of both the pumpkin and apple pie.

She's stuffed, in the best way, has that post-dinner laziness that everyone seems to be sharing. Even the kids are sprawled out in their seats, both looking like they could pass out at any minute. She's been looking out the window, watching as soft snowflakes descend, not too much, just a light dusting that looks beautiful as it falls. It's starting to taper off, and she spares a glance at the clock. It's only five, too early for bed, at least for her son, but she wouldn't be surprised if he nodded off for an hour or so. A Thanksgiving nap sounds rather fantastic to her, but there's clean up to attend to eventually, and she never naps well anyway, always wakes up groggy and cranky.

When Henry slumps farther down into his chair, she suggests he go nap and ends up taking Roland up to the spare room, too. Once both boys are down, she returns to the dining room only to discover Robin and Mary Margaret have begun the clean up.

"Oh, you guys, leave that." She's the host, she won't have them cleaning up her mess. It's a fight she can usually win with Mary Margaret.

"No, we have this," she says.

"Leave it for me, I insist."

Mary Margaret starts to drop her wash cloth in defeat, but Robin is not so easily deterred. "You cooked us this lovely dinner. Now sit back and enjoy yourself while we take care of this."

She sighs, knowing she's not going to win this one. Really, she shouldn't be complaining. They are only trying to help, and if they all do it together it will take less time. It's just, Mary Margaret somehow always leaves streaks, such that Regina has to clean up again after. If she lets her do something it's usually only to dry and put away the dishes which _should_ be hard to fuck up, but she usually has to relocate a couple of things.

She's particular when it comes to cleaning, she knows that, and Robin finds it amusing, but doesn't take it as seriously as she'd like, is more prone to making fun of her for it more than anything else. He has picked up a few tips and tricks from her, but he continues to put the toilet paper on backwards nearly every time, even though his way makes no sense.

She balks when Robin tries to stop her from helping, as if he is in charge of her kitchen. "No, love, relax. Let us take care of this."

That is not happening, she will not sit idly by as they clean up, no way. Mary Margaret watches, clearly entertained as they bicker about it for a few moments before Robin admits defeat. Together the three of them finish all the clean up and have just poured themselves a drink when the boys come down, both looking refreshed from their naps.

"Can we play a game, Regina?" Roland asks hopefully, and she cannot resist those dimples.

"I think that's a great idea. What do you want to play, Roland?"

"Mmmmm," he purses his lips, brows narrowing in concentration as he thinks on it in a way that is absolutely adorable. "Oh! I know. Can we play the falling game?"

She's pretty sure he means Jenga because they'd played that the last time he was over. After a while, Roland had been much more interested in knocking it all down and rebuilding it than the actual play of the game.

"Are we going to actually play this time?" Henry grouses and Roland nods. Henry eyes him suspiciously, "You know the goal is _not_ to knock it over, right?"

Roland giggles, "But that's less fun."

She interjects with, "If we're going to play, we have to play by the rules, so no on purpose knocking it over."

"Finnnneee," Roland sighs, his arms flopping to his sides dramatically as if she's spoiled all his fun (and perhaps she has).

They make it through about five minutes of gameplay before Roland gets bored and knocks it all down with a delighted shriek. Henry scolds him, reminding him that means he loses, but Roland doesn't care, he just wants to knock over the tiles.

He busies himself with that as Henry tells Robin about the book he's just started reading. She loses herself in staring at them for a minute, loving seeing the bond that Henry and Robin have, the way he treats her son, seeing the genuine affection between them. It all warms her heart into a pile of goo.

She wants this never to end. It's only been a short time, but she now can't imagine her life without Robin. Her thoughts of the future all involve him. She cares about him so much, and she can barely remember caring this much about a partner before. She's in deep, and loves it, loves hanging out with him, being with him, everything about him… loves him.

She, wait, she does, she loves him. She's in love with him, Robin Locksley, the man she thought she'd never have. It's exhilarating, exciting, but also comforting. She's not scared of this, not at all. Now that she knows she wants to tell him, feels this urge to scream it from the rooftops, that she, Regina Mills, is head over heels in love with Robin Locksley.

She never thought she'd have this, had given up on having this. But then it happened, she was able to bring this attractive, kind, thoughtful man into her and her son's life, and easily. She doesn't believe in fairytales or "the one," that some people are meant to be, but if she did, she might think that about her and Robin. They fit together so well, and he's not afraid to challenge her, which she needs sometimes. He's not perfect, which thank god, because neither is she, but he is such a good man, is an incredible father and is starting to fill that role for Henry. She's so lucky to have this, she wants to hold on tight and never let go of this amazing man who has made her so _so_ happy.

She doesn't realize quite how starry-eyed she's gotten until Mary Margret leans in and teasingly comments, "You look smitten."

She knows it has to be bad if hopeless romantic Mary Margaret is making fun of her for it. She bites back a sassy comment about how Mary Margaret looked smitten over the pie earlier because her friend is right.

Mary Margaret lowers her so only she can hear. "You love him, don't you?"

Her instinct is to deny it, she's only just admitted to herself and to say it out loud seems somehow dangerous, even though that's silly. She nods in lieu of saying it, will save the actual saying of it for the person it's meant for. The man she's casually mooning over as he talks with her son.

Roland eventually gets bored with knocking down the blocks and they find themselves in a spirited match of Candyland. She'd tried to get out of playing, really isn't a board game person (okay, that's a lie, she actually likes complex games, but she's far too competitive and strategic for children's games), but she ended up as Roland's partner after he begged her to play.

Mary Margaret adores children's games—in fact, refuses to play any other kind with Regina, after a charades incident years ago at a party where she may have gotten a bit too intense in her anger at her friend for not getting her obvious enactment of "hammer." Mary Margaret holds the lead right now and maybe having more fun than Henry and Roland, even with how boring the game is. She doesn't understand it sometimes, how they ended up so close when they are so different. Mary Margaret is all sunshine and unicorn kisses, and she's domineering and sassy. But somehow, all those years ago, Mary Margaret wormed her way past Regina's walls and gave her what she really needed: a friend.

She lets Roland control their turn while she tops off everyone's glasses, even letting the boys have a little more eggnog, despite all the sugar they've had over the day. She'll supervise toothbrushing tonight, will make sure they scrub off all the remnants of their day of excess.

When the boys are ready for bed, they bid Mary Margaret goodbye. She knows Henry won't sleep yet, is prone to laying in bed for hours reading until she commands he turn his light off. Then sometimes he keeps reading and she'll tell him to stop because it's bad for his eyes, as her father used to tell her (and her mother far less pleasantly). She doesn't actually know if it's true, but Henry seems to believe it, so if it's a myth, it's one she will keep perpetuating.

She tucks her son in, flipping the bedside lamp on for him to read with, and turning off the overhead light so he doesn't have to leave his cocoon when he's ready to sleep.

She walks by the guest room and looks in to see Robin singing softly to Roland, his one hand stroking over his little face, in a way that makes her melt. It's so precious; she sits and watches as he sings Roland to sleep. He has a nice voice, set to soft and soothing as Roland's eyelids flicker. She didn't realize he sang, but then she's a bit of a novelty to Roland and he's taken to asking her (with or without his father) to put him to bed when they are here. The times he only wants his papa she's busied herself downstairs, with clean up or other things, but now that she knows what she's been missing out on, she thinks she'll have to come upstairs and watch more often. She loves watching Robin parent, she hopes he wouldn't find it creepy how she's watching him because she's utterly mesmerized by the sight.

He only notices her after he turns out the light and sneaks out of the room, slowly shutting the door.

"Oh, jeez, love. You scared me," he whispers, after a sharp inhale and minuscule jump in response to her presence.

"Sorry," she breathes lowly. "I got caught up watching you."

"Yeah?" he asks as they head down the stairs back toward the living room.

"I had quite the view."

"Roland is adorable, isn't he?"

She steps into the landing and turns to face him still on the stairs, "I wasn't talking about him, I was referring to the handsome man in the room with him."

Robin looks up the stairs behind him then back to her, before asking incredulously, "There was a man in Roland's room. Show me that scoundrel, I'd like to have a word with him."

God, he's an idiot sometimes, a playful, loveable idiot, and she loves every minute of his bad jokes. She suggests dryly, "Why don't you look in a mirror, Sweetheart?"

He finishes descending the stairs and saddles up beside her, "Are you saying I'm a scoundrel?"

"If the shoe fits…"

He makes this face, like she's gravely injured him, and she can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, and of this conversation. The laugh turns up the corners of her mouth, and she shakes her head at him even through the grin.

"There it is," he says, one hand brushing a loose hair from her face, the other finding purchase on her hip. "There's that elusive but satisfying smile I think about every time I close my eyes."

She bites her lip, internally swooning but pretending not to be so affected by his romantic side. "You do not."

"I do so," he says, looking into her eyes, and the mood changes. He's suddenly serious, looking at her intently, those beautiful blue eyes boring into her soul as he tells her, "I cannot stop thinking about you. These past few months with you have been… I don't have the words to tell you how great it's been…"

She somehow finds a way to make her mouth move and urges him to, "Try."

"To describe it?" he asks and she nods, her eyes still on his, the intense eye contact they are maintaining makes her feel open, not uncomfortable. They are caught up in an intimate moment that she doesn't want to end.

"For a long time, I felt like all I could do was fight with someone, that no matter what I would do, it would end the same. When my relationship ended with Marian, I was devastated, even though I knew it hadn't been working for a long time. Then this happened, and it showed me how much Marian and I had been missing. You make me feel things I haven't in years. You are stunning, passionate, fiery. You make me laugh, you make me smile, you rock my world. You… this is everything to me. I never want to let go of it. This happiness, the way I feel with you, it's freeing."

She sucks in a breath as she tries not to cry. The only thing she can say in response is, "I love you."

His eyes widen, his whole face softening, "And I love you. God, so so much. You have no idea."

"I do, trust me, I do."

She leans in, his lips descend on hers, and everything goes to hell.

It hits her like a wave, and she pulls herself from this kiss much to Robin's confusion as a flood of emotion and memories, the pain, loneliness, and despair hit her. God, all the loss she endured: her marriage to the King, how she hated Snow White, all that she did. The things that she—oh god, no, Daddy, her poor sweet father who loved her always, but was never strong enough to stop people from wounding her. He was always there to try to soothe her open and aching wounds, but she wouldn't let him. God, what did she do, what has she done? She needs him desperately right now but he is gone, because of her.

It's all there swirling in her head, memories of another life, of all she did to get them here. Sweet kisses with Daniel alongside ripping people's hearts out, her mother killing Daniel, her attempts to kill Snow, learning to create a fireball. So much pain, so much heartache, days spent wanting to die, but letting thoughts of vengeance pull her through, of experiencing the worst curse imaginable, having no one. She had Daddy, she did, she was just too—pain wells up in her chest at the thought, and she can't cry, not now. She's only vaguely aware of where she is, but she cannot break down right now.

It's been twenty-eight years of ignorance, of playing the part in another life. The curse was supposed to make her happy, and it did, oh how lovely it was to live without the scars of years of abuse, without the terrible loneliness that drove her to bitterness, disinterest, and madness.

The curse gave her so much, and now it's taken it away, and she's left struck, stunned and emotionally overwhelmed. She needs a moment alone, needs time to process, needs to figure out what the hell she is going to do. Her whole world has just fallen apart.

Her vision focuses in just for a second; Robin's holding her hands, that lion tattoo facing up for her to see. Of course he's her fucking soulmate. Jesus fucking christ, what the hell is she going to do? She can tell he's saying things, can tell that he's concerned.

She's on the floor, she realizes as her breath stutters out and she tries not to break into sobs. She feels sick, her stomach lurching under the onslaught. It's too much, it's all too much; she wants to go back, ignorance really is bliss. God he said, and she—

Her dinner no longer sitting comfortably but is up in her throat, threatening to spill out. She feels it rolling, and shit, she's going to vomit. She pushes herself up, making her way to the bathroom on instinct and emptying the contents of her stomach in fierce, retching sloshes. A few tears fall from the force of her heaves, then she's shaking with them, her whole body succumbing.

Robin's rubbing her back, and she buries her face in his shoulder, seeking a comfort from it she does not deserve. She can't keep this up, she can't be with him. But for now all she can do is cry, so she leans in, soaking up the support as a balm for her fractured, blackened heart.

She has the stunning realization that this curse, the one designed to make her happy, made her best friends with the woman she tried to kill for so many years. And of fucking course it did, because now that she can finally kill her, she has years and years of memories of her as her friend holding her back.

It's a mess, everything she worked for in shambles, and Henry, oh god, Henry. She cannot fall apart because of this, cannot go back to her old ways, her son deserves better.

She will bear this burden, this knowledge, alone, will suffer the consequences and make damn sure none fall on her son.

"It's okay, it's okay, love. You are okay," she hears, Robin's voice finally breaking through the haze of her rampant emotions.

She doesn't know what to tell him, accepts the Kleenex he holds out for her and blows her nose. When she finally looks up at him, his eyes are painted with concern but all he asks is, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tears threaten to spill again because he is far too good for her, for the Evil Queen. She shakes her head 'no' and knows that will be the end of it. She shakily asks for some time alone to freshen up and he grants it to her because he is pure and good and everything she is not. He's supposed to be with Marian, his wife. It must be her curse that made them so unhappy, so that she could get with him, get what she wanted. She has to end things with him, but his son is sleeping in the other room, and if she has any chance of sleeping, she needs him by her side.

She's going to be selfish and grant herself this one last night with him before she makes it right and ends it. She owes him that, cannot keep indulging in this curse created farce when she knows he has someone else, someone who is here, suffering without their loved one because of her and what she did.

She wills herself not to fixate on what a disaster this all is as she brushes her teeth, gragles mouthwash for far too long and takes a quick shower. It's futile though, her head will not stop spinning. When she finishes, her mind still terribly troubled, Robin is waiting in her bedroom for her, in his pajamas sitting on the bed. His presence soothes her, slows down her racing thoughts.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as she settles into the crook of his arm, inhaling his familiar and comforting scent. The real answer to his question is horrible, but she's not about to tell him that. The overwhelming surge of emotion from earlier has dimmed into a much more manageable dull well of pain. One that if she thinks on it will bring her down, but she can push aside and feel… pseudo-numb. It's there bubbling under the surface but allows her a facade of normalcy. One that she uses to her advantage to apologize for her 'bout of illness.' Robin seems to buy her pathetic story, gently teasing her that he wouldn't have thought she'd be so fraught when ill, but seems to accept that being suddenly violently ill had scared the shit out of her, as it had him.

He doesn't bring up the 'I love you's', thank god, not until she starts to lavish him with kisses, letting herself have this one last time. You would think her tortured mind would make it harder to get into it, but instead she's frantic, needs him, and he is more than happy to oblige. She's selfish, so selfish, for granting herself this pleasure after everything she did to get herself here. But this is it, her last moments of something resembling happiness before she wakes up and deals with the horror she inflicted as the Evil Queen, with the way she got herself here into this life.

It's not enough, it will never be enough. That's what she thinks as he drives her to the edge with fingers inside her, tongue teasing softly over her clit. In that moment, right after she comes, he whispers that he loves her and she wants to cry. It's not fair to have this all taken away, or maybe it is, given what she took away from countless families after she lost all of her compassion to her obsession. She has murdered and wounded, tortured and threatened. For god's sake, she killed her own father for this. That thought has her breaking from a kiss with a tortured sound she disguises as a moan of pleasure.

She deserves to burn in Hell, and she will, is about to live it. But for now she's going to drink up every ounce of pleasure this man can bestow upon her body, every balm he can provide for her gaping, open wounds and hope like hell she can make things right for him again so he doesn't have to suffer because of what she did, what she wanted.

He doesn't love her, not really. He doesn't know her, the real her; if he did, he'd go running for the hills. They never had a chance, not like this, not after she ravaged villages and terrorized citizens in her vendetta against Snow White. That ship sailed when she refused to give up her anger, anger that's now gone, molded into bitterness and regret. She could have had a better life, she knows that now, but she's left with the result of her choices. An entire realm she cursed, a path that only leads one way, to her destruction.

When Robin says those three words again, she repeats them back, because she does, god, she does. Amidst all the pain and heartbreak, the one thing she can pull comfort from is him, like this, even though he doesn't know. It simultaneously hurts and soothes her, a stopgap measure that will likely only hurt her more later on. But she's never been good at saying no to things that feel good, even when, especially when that feeling is accompanied by suffering. She's a glutton for punishment, seeking out things that she can berate herself about after or during. She's fucked up, Tinkerbell should have let her die, would have saved everyone, including Robin, years of suffering.

She lets the passion between them consume her, lets his actions strip her of all thoughts but two: how good he's making her feel and how she'll never have it again. She grows frenzied and desperate, urging him to bring her up yet again once he spills inside her because once it's over, _it's over_ , she will never feel this way again, will never get to touch him, feel him, kiss him, love him ever again.

One round becomes two, and somewhere in the haze of pleasure, she settles on his chest, listening to the cadence of his breathing, her mind going blessedly still, the world going black.


	8. Chapter 8

It's been a week since her world fell apart. A week of sitting in her bed staring at the ceiling pretending to be 'taken down by the flu' to disguise her breakdown. One week later she's no closer to having an answer about what to do, no closer to feeling any better. She's still lost in the horror of what she's done, grieving her father, her past, the choices she made, and the loss of her innocence the curse had gifted her. She would give almost anything to go back to her ignorance, but this is her punishment for all she's done, and it is more than earned.

She sent Henry to Robin's that morning after Thanksgiving, begged off company as a part of sickness ruse she knows she cannot keep up.

It helps that she looks awful, she hasn't slept well since she woke up. She tosses and turns fitfully, lying in her bed fretting, or reliving the past. The rare times she does fall asleep, sleep brings no solace and instead nightmares, of nights with her husband, of her father begging her not to do it, of her own death at the hands of the townspeople, and worst of all, of Henry finding out and hating her, spewing venomous words she knows she deserves but still cut deeply. She wakes up gasping, wounded, never wanting to sleep again, then the cycle continues.

She is in a mess of her own making. She did this, no one else. She should just put an end to her misery, has thought of it more than once in the past week, but cannot bear to do that to Henry.

She's racked her brain trying to figure out a way to fix this all without her son becoming collateral damage but has nothing. It kills her because Henry has changed her life, changed her for the better, and at some point her past is going to ruin the one thing she ever did right. As always, she ruins everything she gets involved in, mangles and twists it until it's dark and evil like her.

Her choices brought them to this moment. She can see clearly now all the ways she went wrong, all the times she thought she didn't have a choice but did and made the wrong one. Her path was not set in stone, she could have broken from it, but she let the rage and misguided blame consume her, let all the trauma and loss feed a need for vengeance, let it win. In doing so, she caused herself that much more loss and trauma, feeding into a downward spiral that's left her here, alone, afraid and ashamed.

She keeps telling herself she cannot change the past, that she needs to focus on the future, but it's of no comfort and doesn't stop her from constantly reliving the hell that was her life in the Enchanted Forest. She tries to take comfort from her memories of Henry, of the better times when she was blissfully unaware, but that is tainted now by the knowledge of what she did to make that happen.

It's hell, this is hell. She'd much rather be set on fire for eternity and cling to that physical pain than live in this despair. Physical pain, for her, is easier to deal with than emotional, she can trick herself into not feeling it, push down the sensations, it's something she's had a lot of practice perfecting, but this type of pain she cannot just push away. It overwhelms her, consumes her and makes her wish she'd never been born. That's what would have been best, would have saved the realm and her the torrid suffering.

Robin, her sweet, somehow uncorrupted by her, soulmate has stopped in every day to check on her, brings her a hot meal, usually her only of the day. Every day she tells him not to come back, that she is fine on her own. He wants to do more, begs her to let him stay, but she waves him off. She needs to cut the cord, to end it for good, but she can't do that while he's looking after her son, and she's not keen on hurting him.

It's funny how she once could have killed him without a thought, even knowing he had a son and a wife. Yet now, the thought of ending their relationship, of inflicting that necessary scar tears her up inside. She needs to toughen up and do what is necessary, but she can't pull herself out of the despair that's been haunting her since she woke up from the curse.

She knows Henry is worried about her, he keeps asking to come home, tells her she should no longer be contagious. She knows she needs to let him, has wanted to let him every damn day, to stop being his mother for just a moment and seek solace in his arms, but it's wrong and she's resisted.

She needs to be stronger for Henry, needs to find someway to get by _for him_. She doesn't want him to ever see her like this, ragged, broken. He deserves a better mother than her, but he loves who she was and she cannot just walk away, will not just walk away. She needs to do something, cannot keep avoiding everything and everyone. Henry deserves better.

She lets that fuel her into taking a shower, her first in days. The water feels good on her skin, as she washes away the grime, wishing she could wash away her sins just as easily. It's three when she emerges feeling slightly more human, though no less of a failure, and she decides today is the day she faces her son, she cannot keep putting it off. She puts on fresh clothes, braids her hair, throws her bedding in the wash and opens her fridge to find pounds of leftovers that have surely gone bad. She's shaky on her feet, weakened from her time spent in bed, so she sits herself down on the couch and decides they will order in. There's no way in hell she's going out looking like this.

Her eyes are still reddened and puffy, dark circles painted under them. She doesn't look as bad as before, but it's still not great. Eyedrops help, slightly, and she should cover her circles, but the thought of making it all the way up the stairs to do so and coming back down is too much for her in this state.

She texts Henry, tells him she's feeling a bit better, and that she wants him to come home tonight and to let Robin know. He responds almost immediately with barely concealed excitement.

When she hears him enter, she freezes. She'd meant to go and greet him, but her limbs refuse to cooperate. She's like a child, clutching her blanket to her chest like it will protect her.

He yells out, "Mom?" and she tells him she's in the living room, wishing she'd put this off to a time when she was more presentable, less likely to scare him with her emotional vulnerability.

Henry doesn't seem to mind her state at all, joins her on the couch and wraps his arms around her tightly, whispering how much he missed her, as she tries not to cry. You'd think after how many tears she's spilled already today there would be none left, but more come to the surface as she hugs her son.

"I was so worried about you, Mom," he says and one of those traitorous tears falls down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," she sniffles, trying to compose herself, not let him see what a wreck she is, but doesn't succeed.

"Mom, why are you crying?"

Shit, no. More tears are prickling in her eyes, but she won't succumb, she can't. She will not have a breakdown in front of her son. Her voice shakes as she tells him, "I just really missed you."

He's eyeing her in that way she knows means he's not buying it. Dammit, he's too perceptive sometimes, her son, and she does not have any reasonable excuse for how she's acting.

She falters trying to explain and something on his face changes, it's as if something clicked for him, and she cannot for the life of her figure out why he looks like that.

"Mom, I…" he's hesitating which is not like her son at all, "I think…"

"What is it, Henry?"

He sighs, "Promise me you'll keep an open mind."

She nods, trying not to show how bizarre she's finding this.

"I… wait, I need to get something." He bounds across the room and into the hall, grabbing his backpack from the bottom of the stairs.

He comes back with a large brown book with _Once Upon a Time_ written across it in gold lettering. She's never seen this book before, and has no idea what it has to do with her state. She realizes she's gone back to clutching her blanket at her sides, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She lets it go, lets her arms fall as Henry sits back down beside her, setting the book onto his lap.

"I don't want you to think I'm crazy—" he starts, and she wants to scoff because him, crazy, never. He's the one who will think she's crazy when he finds out what she's done.

"Sweetheart, I would never."

He takes a breath, "Okay. Mom, do you know what's happening?"

"What do you mean?"

"This town, things aren't right." He's right about that. "Mom, how old is Roland?"

Four is the answer, forever four, he'd just had his twenty-eighth fourth birthday the other week. He's trapped at that age unable to grow because of what she did. He was turning five, until he wasn't and turned four all over again. But Henry, Henry ages, Henry is not from here… Henry knows something is wrong.

"He's four."

"Don't you remember, though? He was turning five, he was, then he wasn't."

He's right, her brilliant son. This is it, she should come clean. "I know."

His eyes light up, "You do?"

She nods her head. She hadn't prepared herself for this, is far too emotionally drained and damaged to handle this properly, but she won't lie to her son. She has to do this. "Henry, I've… there are things I have to tell you and…" Dammit no, she is not going to cry, she is _not_.

"Mom, it's okay. I know." She's shaking her head because no, he doesn't he can't. He would not be here if he did. "It's okay. You're not the Evil Queen anymore, we can break this curse."

She is shocked.

Pure shock, is all she feels. She is stunned, rendered mute and frozen at this revelation. Never in a million years would she have expected her son to know. And how did he? What? How? Why doesn't he...?

She doesn't realize she's asking the broken questions until he passes her the book. "It's all in here."

She starts to flip through the pages, sees hers and other's stories being told. Fear starts to battle with the shock as she realizes it's all in there, every terrible thing she ever did. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in Mary Margaret's closet at the start of the summer."

"You… what? Where did it come from?"

"I don't know."

She has so many more questions she can't even begin to collect her thoughts enough to organize them logically, but the most important is sitting on her tongue, begging to be asked even though she is terrified of the answer. "Do you… don't you hate me?"

Henry's eyes widen, and he shakes his head vigorously. "Mom, I love you."

At that, she loses her war with the tears as relief runs rampant through her. She sobs as she tells him, "I love you, too."

He hugs her, strokes her back like she does to him when he's upset. She cards her hands through his hair, presses a kiss to his temple. Henry is the best thing that ever happened to her, she cannot believe that he isn't walking away, that in spite of everything, he still loves her. She thinks for a moment of her own mother, how she loved her even with all that she did to her, how horrible her mother was to her and that is not what she wants for her son.

"I don't understand," is all she says when her emotions settle enough to resume the conversation.

"I didn't believe it at first. You are my mom, you aren't evil, you are kind and loving. You've always said nothing is ever black and white, that we don't know what makes other people do things. I kept reading it, thinking it couldn't be true, even though a part of me knew somehow that it was. I'd noticed the aging thing before, but I don't know, it didn't really mean anything until the book. I tried to ask you about it, and Mary Margaret, but neither of you got what I was asking. I told you about the story, tried to see if you remembered, but there was nothing."

Henry shifts, and she lets him out of her grip, she's been holding onto him tightly, probably too tight. The book is still her lap and was jabbing him. She moves it to the side and he leans back into the couch, slouching into it as he goes on, "I saw Robin's lion tattoo, and I knew that that would give me the answer. I pushed you guys together, and it worked, just like the book promised. I've been trying to get Mary Margaret to talk to Prince Charming because she can wake him up, I know she can."

"Hold on, who do you think is Charming?" she asks, having never seen him in Storybrooke and having stood over his bleeding body as the curse overtook the realm.

"John Doe, at the hospital."

Oh. _Oh_. So he didn't die. That's one less death on her tally, not that it makes a mark overall, but that too brings her a bit of relief. She remembers in happier times Snow White saying the guy in the coma looked hot, and she shouldn't, but she starts snickering over the absurdity of it all.

She doesn't hate Snow anymore, she can admit that. All of her past anger and need for vengeance left her at some point in the twenty eight years they were friends. She wants to keep being her friend, which is crazy, but yet… she'd always blamed Snow for her life of solitude and loneliness, throughout the curse Snow gave her the companionship she'd always wanted.

"Why are you laughing?" Henry asks, which is fair because she knows she's acting erratically, has gone from sobbing on his shoulder to this manic laughter.

"It's just… it's crazy, isn't it?" She's cognizant of his fear from earlier and is quick to reassure. "The situation, I mean, that I cursed an entire realm to get back at Snow White, only to curse myself to twenty eight years as her friend."

Henry evidently doesn't find it as funny. "Yeah, I thought that was weird. So you really didn't know? Ever?"

She shakes her head. "Wow," Henry breathes, "That's what I thought, but wow. How did you wake up?"

There's a sharp pain that lances through her as she thinks about that moment. She croaks out, "True loves kiss," quickly then focuses on anything but that moment where they admitted their feelings that she's been replaying over and over.

"Oh," is all Henry says for a moment. Then, "I know you've been upset, but we have to make this right, we have to break the curse."

He's right, they do, but she has no clue how to do that and tells him as much.

"I think I have someone who can help," he tells her.

He must mean Rumpelstilskin, and she will not be accepting his help with this, thank you very much; he's most of the reason she's in this scenario in the first place. Why did he even want them to come here? What was in this for him? Why didn't she ever take a break from plotting her revenge and ask these damn questions?

"I am not getting help from Mr. Gold."

Henry shakes his head, "No, not him, he scares me," that's good at least, he needs to stay away from him, they both do. "Do you remember when I mentioned the author I'd been talking to, August?"

Oh, yes, she does vaguely. He is new in town, he's an outsider, not from their realm, like Henry. "I do…"

"He's Pinnochio, Geppetto's son. He went through the wardrobe with Emma."

That's right, Emma, Snow's daughter. Snow's daughter that she separated her from for _twenty eight years_. There's no coming back from that, their friendship will end the moment she learns that. It will be like that time she impersonated a villager, and they became brief friends only to have it shattered by her actions. It all makes her want to call up "Mary Margaret" and soak up all the time she can with her friend, but she won't, that's selfish. They've done this before and it will end in the same way. Snow White is ever forgiving, but what she has done to her is unforgivable.

It's news to her that two people went through the wardrobe. She wonders why a child and not Snow or Charming, but that's probably in the book, and honestly not all that important at this moment. "So he's awake? He knows about the curse?"

"Yeah, and he wants to help, he came to help."

She doesn't trust this man, not at all, but if the choice is him or Rumplestilskin for allies, she's going with him. "And how is he going to help exactly?"

"He knows where Emma is and that she's the saviour. He wants me to bring her here, so she can break the curse."

"Why would you bring her here?"

"She's my mom, my, uh, birth mom."

Of course she is, that's why he was able to enter the town. Good god, she's been raising Snow's grandchild, her great grandchild technically, that's a family tree she really doesn't want to think on. What a fucking mess this all is. As much as she knows she should reunite Snow with her daughter, she does not want to bring Emma to Storybrooke. _She_ is Henry's mom, _no one else_ , Emma gave up the right to that title when she gave him up, and she will not have someone swoop in and try and take her son away.

It was her biggest fear during the curse that Henry's birth mom would come back demanding her son and Henry would want to go with her, would abandon her for his biological family. Now it seems in order to break this damn curse she might have to face it. It's less scary now, knowing that her son loves her, knowing all of her, but it still concerns her even though she doesn't want it to.

She really doesn't want to get into that right now though. There's also the fact that, "I don't trust this August."

"He's been in on Operation Cobra since before you, Mom."

She raises her brow as she asks, "Operation Cobra?"

"That's what we're calling it."

Alrighty then. "So the goal of 'Operation Cobra' is to bring Emma back and break the curse?"

"Yeah, the book says it has to be Emma, but maybe it's wrong."

Maybe it is, but she doubts it as Rumplestilskin told her that Snow and Charming's daughter would be the only thing able to break her curse. "I don't think it is. But can we… I need time, can we put this off until after the holidays? I'm not stalling because I'm scheming to keep it going or anything like that, it's just a lot to process."

God, she hopes he doesn't start ascribing secret sinister motives to everything she does, though she wouldn't blame him if he did.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. In the meantime, what are you going to do about Robin?"

She groans, she should have known Henry wouldn't let this go. "Can we not, not _now_."

She must have really done a number on him with her display earlier because he nods and lets it go.

The sound of her stomach growling loudly, breaks the mood and they order a pizza (Henry's choice) and watch a mindless Hallmark movie as they eat. It's the closest thing to normal she's had in a week, and she drinks it in, still flabbergasted her son loves her knowing all that she's done. She has to pull herself out of this slump, will not allow her memory returning to ruin Henry's Christmas.

They'll put up their tree tomorrow, start engaging in all of their holiday traditions, things she can cling to when sorrow threatens to pull her under. She's been freed from dealing with the consequences until the new year, and she needs to make the most of it.


	9. Chapter 9

What the hell happened? That's the question that's been running through his mind for the last two weeks, since the morning after Thanksgiving when Regina kicked them all out saying she was sick. Really, it started that night, when she fell to the floor right after they said I love you. It seemed like she shattered at that moment, there's really no other way to describe it. All of a sudden she was taken down, by what she claimed was illness, then everything changed.

She looked like hell, that first week when she at least let him come over and check on her. He doesn't understand what was happening, and can't with how she's shut him out.

He'd thought when Henry told him he was headed home for the night, he'd get his explanation, but one never came. Instead, he was met with radio silence, all of his calls and texts and visits going unanswered. They had plans, they were supposed to decorate their trees together, to make a day of it that weekend after Thanksgiving, but his every inquiry went ignored. He'd finally broken down and asked Henry, who said he needed to give her some time. So he and Roland had made a day out of doing their own tree, had baked cookies and sipped on hot chocolate, his son thankfully unaware plans had changed.

But Roland is not unaware that he hasn't seen Regina in two weeks. He's asked about her, told Robin he misses her, which Robin has passed on, hoping that if his pleas wouldn't do it, his sons would, but alas, he's still been ignored.

It makes him angry. What does she think? That if she just ignores him, it will all go away? They aren't children, she can't hide from him forever.

He knows she won't answer her door, but she's back at work. It's unprofessional as hell, but frankly he doesn't give a shit anymore. He deserves answers and he's headed over there to get them.

It's the end of the day on Friday, and he's a couple in, using alcohol to gather his courage to do this.

This isn't him, he is not this person, but her actions have given him no choice but to confront her there. He's tried to catch her at home, but she leaves the door locked and his knocks unanswered. He's gotten the message loud and clear but he wants to know why, what had her going from I love you, to pretending he doesn't exist at the drop of a hat.

The more he drinks, the madder he gets. At first he'd been confused and trying to rationalize her actions, in denial that she was ending things in that way. But now, the denial is gone, he knows she was breaking up with him, and he is livid. That was not the way. They have children, for god's sake. She knows better. What she's done is _not okay_ , and he's going to make that clear to her once and for all.

A very small part of him hopes that she will explain it all away, will pull him into her arms and say she's sorry, but he's enough of a realist to know that isn't going to happen. Quite frankly, after how she's acted, he's not sure it would be that simple.

A 'sorry' isn't enough after how she's behaved. He won't just accept it and move on, no way. She needs to atone for what she's done. She won't, he already knows that, but that's what it would take for him to forgive her.

It hurts him deeply that it has come to this. That she didn't even have the decency, or the respect for him, to tell him herself that it was over, that she didn't recognize the impact this would have on their children. He doesn't understand how she could do this after how much they've intertwined their families. It was awful for her to abandon him this way but it is unspeakable that she abandoned Roland like this. She is _not_ the woman he thought she was, that's for damn sure.

He pounds back one last shot, knowing if he doesn't go now he could very well miss her. He staggers off to her office, realizing he may have slightly overdone it on the liquid courage, but oh well, whatever ensures this happens and he doesn't back down.

He breezes past her assistant, not caring if she's in a meeting behind that closed door, as he has no doubt she's instructed her assistant to lie to him and keep him away anyway.

She's taken aback when he flings open the door, his rage potent in the air between them. Her assistant tells him to leave, but he stays staring at her, noting the dark circles her makeup only somewhat covers. Is she sick, like really sick? Is that what this is about?

No. No. He is not making excuses for her. She's just an asshole who couldn't bring herself to do the right thing. He needs to stop rationalizing her horrid behaviour.

His eyes are still locked on hers as she tells her assistant she can go. As soon as the door shuts behind her, Regina eyes him warily and asks, "Why are you here?"

That just angers him more, she fucking knows why he's here. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

Her eyes widen, "You're drunk," she says and it's not a question.

"So what if I am? What does that matter? What, worried I'm a drunk? Well guess what? That ship has sailed for you."

"What, Robin… I—"

"No, no. You don't get to pretend to be concerned about me. You lost that right when you shut me out. Now I don't know what the fuck has been going on with you, but what you did is not okay. Do you think it's easy comforting my son who misses 'his Gina' and wants to know why she doesn't come around anymore?" Her eyes well with pain at that, and it triggers that part of him that wants to hold her, to comfort her even though she does not deserve it.

He overcompensates by getting even harsher, because fuck it, she's earned it. "I thought you were a good person, a good mother." He's hitting where it hurts and he doesn't care. "I see now that all you care about is yourself. Well guess what? You hurt people and when you hurt people you have to deal with it. You don't get to sit here on your high horse and ignore me until I go away. I'm not going away. Not until I get answers."

She sinks back into her chair wearily, "I don't know what to tell you."

"Why did you say you loved me? Since you clearly don't."

"It's complicated—"

"No, none of that bullshit. I don't want your excuses, tell me the truth."

"I am—"

"No! You don't treat someone you love like this, you don't. It is awful and cruel. I don't know what you were trying to accomplish other than hurting me, but hey, if that was your intention, it _damn well worked_." He's starting to yell, but he can't even be bothered to care that her assistant can hear how he's losing it on her.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she tells him tearily, and he hates that he's made her cry and hates that he hates it. He wants to be over her, like she is so clearly over him, but he's not. Even with everything, he's still hopelessly in love with her.

"Yeah, well, you did." It is not fucking fair that it's come to this. But it is all her doing.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough," he tells her because it's not. "You don't get to treat me, to treat Roland and me, like this, then apologize and just walk back into our lives."

She doesn't say anything, and there's a moment where he just watches her sit at her desk biting back tears. It's too fucking much because it makes him conflicted, makes him feel like maybe he is the one being the ass, even though it's her.

"You know what," he starts, moving toward the door but turns once he has the handle in his grasp so he can see her face when he tells her, "We're done. This is done. Do me a favour and _never_ speak to me again."

He catches the way her face falls as he walks out of her office and it almost makes him want to turn back. But he doesn't. He keeps his eyes forward and walks back to his place, breaking into a run and sprinting past his home to burn off some of his anger before returning home.

He never thought Regina Mills would turn out to be such an evil bitch, but he was wrong, and he curses himself for falling for her.


	10. Chapter 10

He had a shit weekend. He was overtired, surly and heartbroken. All his son wanted to do was play and enjoy the winter season, the upcoming holiday. He is not at all in the holiday spirit, wants nothing more than to down his sorrows, but couldn't, wouldn't, not with his son. Instead, he spent his weekend pretending to be happy, because Roland deserved that, and he will not let Regina Mills ruin Roland's holiday season, not a chance. It was exhausting, and he resented Regina every moment his son was acting adorably and he couldn't fully appreciate it because of what she'd done.

Winter is one of his favorite seasons, he loves walking through the snow, building snowmen, going skating, and sledding. But he'd done nearly all of that with her, and now all of it is tainted. He pulled Roland around on the sled on the weekend, but all he could think of was the first weekend it snowed and how he, Regina, Henry and Roland took the sleds to the hill, taking turns sailing down. How he'd conned Regina into going down once with him, after several rides with Roland, and how damn happy he'd been then, unknowing it was all about to go up in flames.

He misses her fiercely, doesn't want to, but does. He wants to be over it, they weren't even together that long, but it was significant to him. He hates that she's probably off with some new partner, already having forgotten he existed. He's so angry. It's unlike him, but he wants to go over and set her car on fire, break her windows, make some lasting physical reminder of his presence. He won't, he's not crazy, but he enjoys the idea.

Even if he were the sort of person to take out his rage in that way, he would never do that to her son. He's tried his damndest to keep Henry out of this (except that one time when he broke down and sent him a text, that is). He wishes Regina had given the same respect to his son, but he can't change her actions no matter how much he wishes.

He and Henry had a relationship that started long before this whole debacle, and he's tried to keep his feelings about the whole thing under wraps when Henry visits.

He likes to think he's doing a decent job, but the lad is perceptive and knows something is off, but thankfully, he doesn't bring it up. He suspects Henry is biting back questions, and Robin appreciates the consideration. He's far more mature than most ten year old's, and if he wasn't so pissed at Regina, he'd attribute that to her parenting, but fuck her, it must be genetics.

Henry's here after school, perusing the book collection and Robin is trying very, very hard not to wonder if his mother will pick him up. Recent history suggests it will be Mary Margaret, or more likely, Henry will go meet his mother somewhere that isn't here so she can keep avoiding him.

It's ironic really that Regina is the one acting like a child and Henry is forced to be the mature one.

Henry has that brown book with him again, the elaborate picture book he's been so into since the summer. He tried to get Robin to read it one time, and he did, bits and pieces, humouring Henry's comment that he looked like the Robin Hood depicted in the book (which, to be fair, there was an uncanny resemblance). For whatever reason, this book is Henry's favourite story, has even surpassed the Harry Potter books for the top spot.

He remembers vividly, and with a slice of pain, Henry insisting the Evil Queen looked like Regina, and him disagreeing vehemently and saying his mom was far more attractive than that drawing.

This is the kind of thing he needs to not think about. He needs her _out_ of his head. He loathes that she's still in there, that every little thing seems to remind him of her. It needs to stop. He needs to stop it, this isn't healthy.

Henry comes to the counter with his book and the first three of the Narnia books. He's fairly certain Henry already read the series, confirms it with him as he checks the books out. It's been a year apparently, so he wants to rediscover them.

Henry asks for his help in getting it all into his bag, and Robin manages to fit them all and his book inside with a bit of rejigging.

"I still have a bit of time," Henry says, "I'm going to get some hot chocolate. Can I get you some, too?"

It's a bit of an odd request, which he declines, because he's not going to use Henry's funds, but for some reason, Henry is insistent that he's buying them a drink. Robin argues for a moment, eventually relenting because he just doesn't have it in him to fight anymore.

Henry comes back ten minutes later with two Granny's take out cups. She's changed over to the festive cups, a red, clearly a knock-off of Starbucks cups, that she brings out every year. He wants to feel more festive, wants to be excited about the holiday like he normally is, but his heartbreak is making that difficult. Up until Thanksgiving, he thought he'd be spending his holidays with the Mills family, they had already planned out spending Christmas Eve together, leaving Christmas Day for him, Marian and Roland. He has presents for Regina and Henry he bought before it all went to shit, including a jewelry set that cost him a pretty penny he somehow can't bring himself to return. He'll give Henry his gifts, but he needs to return Regina's gift and let it go.

It's over, it's not happening, they are never getting back together. He wouldn't want that after all of this anyway. He just needs some kind of closure but has no idea how to get it.

Henry passes him his cup and he thanks him for it. He ended up going for the same beverage as the boy: a hot chocolate with cinnamon. He doesn't ever order it that way, but Henry said it was good. It tastes a bit off honestly, but he doesn't want to offend Henry, so he bites his tongue.

It's not all that hot, more like lukewarm, so he downs a big gulp and the world starts to spin. He almost drops his cup, but Henry grabs it. He almost falls to the floor but manages to get his hands locked on the counter as he waits for the dizziness to pass.

His head aches, feels like it's about to split open. When the pressure becomes overwhelming, he sees white and wonders for a second if he's dying before the pain ceases and he remembers.

It's all real, Henry's book is real. He is Robin Hood, or Robin Locksley, one of the few who kept their name in this curse. The curse, _holy shit_. This is…unfathomable… he can't even… This can't be real, but he knows it is, remembers hearing it was coming, seeing the black wave over take them. He's been frozen in time unknowingly for how long? Good god, poor Roland, trapped at four, forever four, relearning the same old things, never progressing.

She did this. If he thought he was mad at Regina before, it is _nothing_ compared to how he feels now. He is livid, anger racing through his veins demanding that he do something, but what, he doesn't know.

He knows now why she's been avoiding him. Wonders why it took her so goddamn long, then remembers when she fell to the floor and it all went to shit and thinks perhaps that was the moment for her.

If not, how long has she been awake, torturing him? The whole time? Was it fun for her, to reel him in, make him love her and tear him to bits? He's seen first hand the extent of the Evil Queen's cruelty and that would be nothing in comparison to the countless lives she took seemingly for sport. Jesus fucking Christ, he slept with the Evil Queen, he told he loved her, he did love her, or sort of, not her exactly, Regina, but they are the same person and fuck, fuck.

How could he have done that?

Oh, god, Marian, his wife. She was the love of his life until she was captured by the Evil Queen, and she tore them apart once more in this realm. They never stood a chance here, her curse ensured it, ensured that Marian's escape didn't give them their happy ending (not that it had anyway as Marian had disappeared for so long he thought she was dead, blamed himself and mourned her). That's not the point because all of that was her fault, and fuck, he—

"Are you okay?" Henry asks tentatively, and he suppresses the urge to yell at him because this poor boy is innocent in this.

"No, I'm not."

"I'm sorry, I had to…"

That's when he realizes Henry woke him up, this remembering is Henry's doing. The hot chocolate, the insistence they share a drink all makes sense now. Even through his rage, he rushes to assure, "I'm not mad at you. It's better that I know. Thank you."

"Take this," Henry says, passing him the cup. "You can use it on someone else."

He drank less than half, so it must be enough. But who would he wake? Would he even want to inflict this one someone? Maybe ignorance is better? He can't think about that right now. There's too much going on, he cannot think logically right now, can't make that kind of decision.

Henry hesitates then asks, "And… my mom?"

He takes a breath before he answers. He doesn't know how Henry knows about all of this, where he got that potion from, but it doesn't matter at this point. "I'm furious at her."

"You won't… you won't hurt her, right? She's a good person…"

He disagrees vehemently but, "I won't hurt her." He doesn't think he'll have a hard time fulfilling that promise, after all, how could he hurt the Evil Queen?

* * *

He waits until way past Henry's bedtime to confront her. It's eleven when he shows up, prepared to break and enter if necessary.

He'd told her as much in the voicemail he left her earlier. He told her he knows and she had damn well better talk to him now. She was ignoring his calls, but that was before, and so he doesn't know whether she listened or not. When he approaches the door, it swings open and there she is, which answers that question.

The sight of her makes his blood boil. He has to know if this was all a game to her, but more important than that, if his son will ever grow up, or has she denied him that? Does she feel an ounce of regret over what she's done? Or is she heartless, uncarring? He can't imagine she is after how he witnessed her interact with his son, but it all could have been an act. This woman was known to raze villages on a whim, he cannot even attempt to understand how her mind works, nor should he try.

She looks wary and haggard as he approaches, her arms folded tightly across her chest as some form of protection. What does she think, he's going to hurt her? He may be fucking livid, but he'd never hit her, she should know that. Then again, as it's turned out, he didn't know her at all.

She barely responds to his hissed, "I know who you are," just leads him into the study and shuts the door. It's soundproofed, this room, he knows that already, had been told by her one evening when the boys had a sleepover, which led to an encounter he will not be thinking about.

He plops himself down on the loveseat, sitting right in the centre of it so there's not adequate room for her on either side. There is room, she's small, but she clearly knows better and sits down on the couch across from him. There's a fire blazing in the fireplace, and a bottle of scotch on the table with two glasses, clearly she'd been expecting him, had set up this room for their conversation.

It irritates him because she hadn't bothered to respond to him, yet again. Common courtesy seems to elude her, or she's intentionally being rude and either way it just adds to his frustration and anger.

He grabs that bottle, pours himself a glass, not bothering to pour her one, since it's not as though she's been giving him any consideration lately.

She says nothing, just watches him, seems to be waiting him out. He wonders how long she'll keep quiet, so he drags out the awkward silence as he sips at his drink, daring her to speak.

She continues to wait as he pours himself another, and he finds he doesn't know what to say. He's just so damn mad. He had so many questions but now that he's here, it's like they all left him.

He remembers one finally, the most important one and asks coldly, "Why did you do it?"

"I thought it was the only way."

That's not what he expected her to say. "Only way to what? Kill Snow White? So what, the entire realm was just collateral damage in a plan you didn't even succeed at despite having twenty-eight years to do it."

"I… it wasn't like that. I… I only recently woke up. The curse was supposed to make me happy, and it did, by letting me forget my past…"

"And what, I should be grateful you haven't killed her or anyone else in this brief time, Your Majesty, is that it?"

She flinches, "Please don't call me that."

She doesn't get to make that call after everything. "I'll call you whatever I damn please, _Your Highness_."

She doesn't react to that one, and he's almost disappointed. He's not sure when he became such a cold-hearted jerk, but he's blaming her for it.

There's another silence as they both stare at each other. She seems to have aged ten years in the last three weeks, or maybe that's the curse fading, lifting the rose-coloured glasses he had when it came to her. Speaking of that…

"Was this," he gestures between them, "the curse's doing? Your doing?"

She sighs, reaching for the other glass and bottle of scotch. She pours herself one as she tells him, "I don't know," then downs the whole thing.

"What do you mean you don't know?" This is ridiculous, at bare minimum she should be honest with him.

"We're… the curse was supposed to make me happy and we're… so maybe. I don't know."

Enough of these games, he wants the truth, wants her to get to the point. "We're what?"

She looks puzzled then, "Didn't you read the book?"

He shakes his head and she gasps a soft _Oh_ , then pours herself another and sips at it for a moment before telling him, "When I was younger, a fairy led me to a tavern with pixie dust, to the man she said I was destined to be with," he wonders for a second what this has to do with anything, until his mind catches up, and he realizes she must be speaking of him. "I never saw his face, but I did see his tattoo."

He knows, but still asks, "It was me?"

She nods, and he's struck mute. He doesn't want to believe that he was destined to be with _her_ , with someone who would kill for sport and not give a second thought to all the misery she inflicted, with someone who tried to kill his wife.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, with so much inflection and self loathing he believes it. "No one should have been fated to be with _me_. I ruin everything."

"You didn't have to. You could have chosen differently. You could have stopped your vendetta against Snow White."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?" He's trying to rectify what he knows of the Evil Queen with what he's seen of Regina and he wants to understand. He may not believe in destined to be together, but he did fall for one version of her, so maybe it is possible he'd have fallen for this version of her as well. It's not as though he doesn't have a dark past himself, though his sins pale to almost nothing in comparison to hers. He has always believed that everyone deserves a second chance, would he have extended that to the Evil Queen in different circumstances? He wants to say no, but he's not sure.

"My anger was _all I had_. Without it, I had nothing." For a second, she looks very much broken, young and vulnerable. He thinks, unexpectedly, of seeing the far too young queen before her wedding and hoping she'd find her way out the marriage somehow. That image had been overshadowed by all the pain and terror she inflicted later on, but now that he sees it again, he can't seem to let it go.

Still though, "That doesn't excuse what you did—"

She raises her voice for the first time. "Don't you think I know that? I'm not looking for forgiveness here. I know what I've done is unforgivable—"

He grows louder in response, can't help it. "Then what are you looking for? Because I can't fucking figure you out, Regina."

She bites at her lip, her face falling, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know."

"Stop saying that."

She gets some of her bite back then in response to his ire. "Well, it's the fucking truth, what more did you want?"

The words fly off of his tongue before he really thinks them through. "Did you really love me? Or was that just an act?"

"Of course I did. Once we admitted our feelings, that was true love's kiss, it's what woke me up."

His anger has dulled a bit, some of it being replaced with even more confusion. A part of him is reassured it wasn't all a lie, but another is trying to understand what that means going forward. He ends up asking, "Why didn't I wake up then?"

She shrugs, rushing quickly from her, "I'm not sure," to, "My guess is that I, the caster, had to wake up first, but that's only a guess. I don't know as much as I should about the curse."

"You cast the Dark Curse without knowing about it?"

She scowls, "No, I knew things, but it had never been cast before. And Rumple, who gave it to me, was tight lipped about what happened after it got cast. Before you ask, I don't know why."

"Then why'd you do it?" because this is not at all like the Regina he knows and even the Evil Queen's moves had always seemed calculated and well thought out.

"I couldn't hurt her in our realm, Rumple made sure of it. For whatever reason, he wanted this, wanted to be here, and I let him convince me this was the only way, that I would be happy here. Hell, he wasn't wrong. These twenty-eight years, even before Henry, were the best of my entire life. For once, I had a friend. Do you know what it's like to live knowing no one gives a damn about you? Because I do, and that is worse than any dark curse."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Because I don't." It's a bit of a lie, he does actually feel a pang of sympathy for her and all she must have gone through to get to that point, but it still doesn't excuse anything.

"No, I just… dammit, Robin, you asked me to explain and I'm trying. I don't know what else you want from me."

This whole conversation is making his head hurt. Despite having gotten some answers, he's even more confused now than before. He has no one to turn to to help him with this, no one but her, but he cannot keep talking to her about this. He needs to sort out his feelings and figure out what the hell he wants.

He thinks of his wife then, the one he hasn't divorced yet (which he's fairly certain is because of the curse), the one who he loved in the Enchanted Forest before she disappeared. If it hadn't been for the curse, they would have tried to make things right again. Perhaps that's what he needs to be doing.

He stands up suddenly, tells her, "I'm leaving, I can't do this anymore," and goes off to see his wife, who's watching Roland for him so he could do this.


	11. Chapter 11

It's been five days since Robin came to her house and managed to crack her fragile heart open even more than it had been. It was torture seeing him, seeing the way that he looked at her now that he knows who she is. The things he had asked had hurt, even though he had every right to ask and think those things about her, given her past.

Henry had warned her that he woke him up, a plan he didn't run by her beforehand, just left her to deal with once it had been done. She doesn't blame him, his heart was in the right place, and she knows he was only trying to help. She blames this August guy, for giving him the means—even when really, it's a good thing Robin is awake, he, like everyone else in Storybrooke, deserves to get their life back.

It seems like he is, that the world is righting itself for him. She wishes she could be happy about it, but all she can taste is bitterness when she thinks of how she saw him, Marian and Roland out playing in the snow outside of their apartment complex on her way home from work the other day.

Robin had asked her not to contact him, and she's been obeying, even though she's dying to know if they are back together. She's composed many, many texts to him in the last five days, all of which she's deleted, but the temptation still remains.

It's Saturday afternoon, and it's a clear day, not too cold, but not so warm the four inches of snow in their front yard will melt. It's going to be a white Christmas this year if this weather holds up, which Henry is excited about, even though it happens more often than not.

Today really is a perfect winter's day outside, so when Henry asks if they can go to the hill to go sledding she can't think of any reason not to.

As they drive, she tries not to think of happier times when she and Robin took the boys there after the first snowfall. When they went, there was barely enough snow to slide down properly and they were the only ones there, spending hours going up and down the hill, the boys having the time of their lives. It had been a perfect day, one she will never have again, and needs to stop longing for, but can't.

When they pull up to park, she spies a father and son flying down the hill on a sled. The kid looks like Roland and her heart stops. They are too far away to know for sure, but it's probably them. She's been lucky so far, hasn't run into them anywhere, but it seems her luck is about to run out.

As they get closer, after getting out of the car and offloading Henry's sled, she sees the two again and her fear is confirmed—it's Robin and Roland, shit.

She longs to retreat back to her car and drive home, but Henry wanted this and she's determined not to ruin his holidays.

She does stop walking though, taking a minute to herself to prepare for this. Robin will likely pretend she doesn't exist, but Roland won't, and god, has she ever missed that kid.

When they reach the top of the hill, it's worse than she feared. They are all there—Robin, Roland and Marian, the perfect little family. Seeing them all together like that sends a ripple of pain through her stomach. She knows this is right, how it's supposed to be, but seeing them all happy together is torture. She tries to keep the pain off of her face but must not succeed, because when Robin looks over his face falls as he looks her over. Their eyes lock, and shoot, she hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself, but now she can't stop staring at him. It's unfair that he looks this good in a snowsuit, his cheeks reddened from the cold and exertion.

She wonders if she will ever stop feeling this undeniable pull toward him, the pang of loss when she looks at him and his son, knowing in another life she could have had them, or if time will soothe the ache. She suspects it won't, that the pain of seeing him with his family is all a part of her punishment. She knows she deserves to feel this way, that the punishment is warranted, but that does little to cure the ache inside of her as she thinks of him and his wife back together.

"REGINA!" Roland yells, barreling toward her, then throwing his arms her legs when he reaches her.

"Hi, sweetheart," she says, as her gloved hand comes down to stroke his hair.

Her heart breaks yet again when he tells her, "I missed you."

She uses sheer force of will to keep her voice steady in spite of all the feelings that are bubbling up inside of her, threatening to spill out and ruin everything. "I missed you, too."

Roland is four and ever forgiving, so that's all he needed. "Will you go down with me this time?" he asks pleadingly, flashing the dimples she cannot resist.

She chances a glance at Robin, and he's scowling. He probably doesn't want her around Roland, she realizes. "Only if it's okay with your papa."

Roland turns toward Robin and yells far louder than is necessary, "Papa, can I down with Regina?"

"Why don't you go down with Henry instead?" Robin suggests, and Roland accepts the distraction unquestioningly.

She was right, he doesn't want her around his son, and it hurts, perhaps more than seeing him with Marian, but she understands why. She should go, she shouldn't be here.

Roland and Henry gear up to slide down, enlisting Marian to help them as Regina and Robin gawk at each other awkwardly, the tension between them hanging in the air, obvious to everyone except Roland, thankfully.

Robin shakes his head and blinks, seemingly trying to shake off the moment. "Right, well, I should…" He staggers off toward Marian and pats her on the back (she burns up inside), watching as Henry and Roland sail down the hill.

She watches as they come to halt and Henry grabs the sled, trailing it behind him as he climbs up the hill again. That leaves no one helping Roland up, and that won't do. She's just about to say something when Robin goes flying down the hill on their sled. She hears Roland's gleeful shout as his father slides past him, and she's filled with despondence she cannot seem to shake off. She is not in the right mood, needs to snap out of it, but how can she when the first man she's loved since Daniel is here, reminding her of everything she can never have. She shouldn't be expected to deal with this, surely Henry will understand.

Henry's winded when he gets to the top, but still manages an excited tone. "Mom, that was awesome, you go _way_ faster now, you gotta try it."

Normally, she'd be making excuses not to, but Robin and Roland are on their way back up, and that is as good a way as any to avoid them.

She can tell Henry wasn't expecting her to say yes, but he doesn't let it throw him, and soon she's in position, waiting for him to come by on the sled. He'd wanted to give them a running start, so he told her to jump on at the last minute. It's the kind of plan she would usually shoot down because it's likely going to end badly, but at least this time she's fairly certain the only one who can get hurt is her.

Henry wants to practice her jumping on, which is a good plan, but doesn't take her away from the Locksley's like she wanted. It takes everything in her not to look over at them as she and Henry practice. It was definitely a good idea to practice as she misses the sled the first three times, and one of those times she somehow manages to grab Henry and pull him off too. After a few more tries she gets the hang of it, and Henry decides they can attempt it on the hill. She gets into position and Robin, Roland and Marian aren't there, are all at the bottom of the hill, must have gone down all together. Roland has to tire out soon, right? She won't be forced to endure this all day, will she?

She manages to make it onto the sled for the real thing and has a surprisingly good time going down the hill. It's exhilarating, whipping through the snow on the sled. She'd always been jealous of the kids she'd see out playing in the snow, sometimes going down hills in makeshift sleds, her mother denying her that and many more childhood experiences because Regina was to be a 'proper lady.'

She's been down the hill with Henry before, but this is the first time as her true self, and she finds she loves it. It reminds her of that free feeling she always had while riding horses. It stops her mind, all her swirling thoughts, for a moment, anyway, until they stop.

Once the ride is done, it all comes back to her, but she's grateful for that momentary relief, it should help her endure the rest of the day.

When they get back up, she doesn't see the Locksley family at first, and breathes a premature sigh of relief, for they are all over where she couldn't see initially making snow angels.

She ignores them in favour of going down again with her son, who is delighted she's changed her tune about sledding. But on the second climb up she starts to remember why she prefers to watch, breathing in cold air while she's winded makes her lungs hurt, and she becomes fully aware of how out of shape she's let herself become since waking up from the curse. So when they get up, she decides to stay up, even though that means more time spent trying and failing not to stare at Robin and Marian together even though it tears her up.

When Roland and Marian go down together, Robin turns to her mutters quietly, "Can I talk to you?" before stalking off to the back left of the hill where no one else is.

She follows him, wondering nervously what this is all about. She knows better than to hope he wants her back, even though a stupid, foolish part she blames entirely on her friendship with Snow, is hoping that.

"What?" she asks when he stops and turns back toward her.

"You can't… I can't do this. I told you it was best to stay away. Seeing you here, having a grand old time with Henry, it's too much."

"Do you think this easy for me? I didn't know you were going to be—"

"I told Henry I was taking Roland."

Of course, he did, this is just another one of Henry's misguided matchmaking attempts. It seems to dawn on him then, "He didn't tell you…"

"No."

"Oh."

Well, this is beyond awkward, she wants nothing more than to go shrivel up in a corner somewhere. She hates that this is what it's come down to. "Was that all?" she asks, probably too testily.

"I can't… You don't get to be upset, you did this. Or you do, I—fuck. I can't do this, seeing you, it's too much. I need to not see you for a while. Every time I see you, it messes with my head."

Isn't that just perfect, she really does mess up everything she touches, and everyone she comes in contact with.

"I'll go."

"No, stay, Roland's almost done, we'll be leaving after the next one or two."

She sighs, tells him, "Okay," then returns to her former spot so she can watch her son. She feels Robin's gaze on her until they leave, but she doesn't look over, trying to give him the space he so clearly needs. What she really wants is to wrap her arms around him, kiss him senseless (yes, in front of Marian, because she's awful like that) and have him tell her it will all be okay. What she wants is never going to happen, the least she can do is give him what he wants, even if it hurts.

She tries to distract herself with her son, and his excitement, tries to use his happiness as a balm for her fractured heart. After half an hour of that she feels marginally better, and Henry is worn out, so they call it a day, heading home to bake gingerbread cookies and watch holiday movies, activities she hopes will brighten her spirits.


	12. Chapter 12

To say he's conflicted would be a huge understatement. Seeing Regina physically hurts him, and every time he does, it leaves him even more confused than before. Seeing her out with Henry, enjoying the things they used to all do together, had been tortuous, far too much for his conflicted mind and heart.

Part of him, a large part of him, wants to go back to the way things were, pretend he doesn't know and just enjoy the little family they created, turn a blind eye to all the obstacles in their path.

The more time passes, the more he wants to try, the more he wants to see if what they had is something they can have. He's still angry, but he wants to know the real Regina, wants to see if their actual selves get along as well as their cursed selves. He feels like he needs to know, if he's ever to get over this, what she's actually like, if they could actually work. But that's… he can't, can he? She's the Evil Queen, she's done unspeakable things, but she's also a loving mother, someone who has endured a lifetime of pain, which doesn't excuse any of it but…

These are the things that have been spinning in his mind, keeping him up at night. That and who he should wake up, because he needs to wake someone up, he cannot make this decision on his own. He _needs_ to talk it out with someone. It's a burden he shouldn't share before the holidays, but he is desperate, he cannot keep this up long term, he needs to talk to someone. He cannot wait until the new year, he can't.

He wants to try to work things out with Regina, but that's stupid, isn't it? He just needs someone to tell him it's stupid, that he should not be trying to figure out if he can make a relationship with the Evil Queen work. Any of his men would tell him that, John would for sure, was and still is always the one to tell him if he's doing something stupid. He should wake John, he's an easy going guy who takes everything in stride, he won't be thrown by this for very long.

He should wake John, and yet…

For days now he's been thinking it should be Marian. That he needs her approval in order to move forward with Regina. If Marian wakes up later and he's with Regina, things will be messy, to say the least.

He'd foolishly considered trying to get back together with her when he first woke up, but that would have been a mistake. Their problems started well before the curse, when she disappeared, was captured by the Queen, and presumed dead. He'd grieved his wife and settled into his life as a single father. Then she reappeared two years later, and he was confused, but happy, for Roland at least. She'd already missed so much of Roland's life, which is why he could not understand when she left again. She'd stayed only for a week, then left again with Mulan, off on a mission she never returned from to rescue Belle.

They'd fought terribly that whole week, about where she had been and how she thought she could just waltz back into their lives, then leave their son again. The Marian he fell in love with would never have done that, or so he thought, but so much had changed in their time apart, they'd both changed, a lot. The curse and the time they spent together under it had only magnified their existing problems, but it hadn't created the chasm between them, or the fighting, it had all already been there. He had told her in the Enchanted Forest if she left him and Roland that that was it, their marriage was over, but she left anyway, and he started to treat it as such.

Maybe they would have worked it out if she had come back, but he doubts it. He'd seen the way Mulan had looked at his wife, and knowing that they are together now, found their way to each other now, he thinks it was inevitable.

He's drinking, again, has been drinking far too much lately and needs to stop, but Marian has their son, will be bringing him up shortly to tuck him in bed, then he'll be sleeping. Robin isn't sloshed, only has a buzz, never gets too far gone when his son is here, even if he's asleep. He may be many things but a bad father is not one of them. His own father was an awful drunk, among other things, and he hates that he inherited this impulse from him to drink away his problems, when he knows full well that drinking only makes more problems.

He's having brandy in eggnog, so at least it's festive. He wants another drink, shouldn't but does, though he'll go for something less hearty this time. He looks in his fridge, then in his freezer, and sees that Granny's cup sitting there, taunting him, begging to be used. He wonders for the first time, if the potion loses effect over time, or if freezing it has somehow ruined it, and shit, he should have asked Henry all of this, shouldn't have just thrown it in here to be dealt with at a later date.

What if he's ruined his chances to talk to someone about this? What if he can't wake anyone up now?

It spurs him into making hot chocolate, heating up the contents of that cup in a separate container and adding Kahlua to both. He makes Marian's on the strong side, hoping it will overpower that off taste he'd immediately noticed when he drank the disguised potion.

He's tempted to take a sip, to do a taste test but doesn't want to take too much and somehow ruin it, he's paranoid enough now that it isn't going to work. He almost drops it setting it down on the coffee table, and good god, he needs to get a grip. Marian will know something is up if he keeps acting like this. She already knows something is up, but believes his behaviour is a result of his break up, a half truth he's encouraged.

But that ends now. She's going to come up with Roland, he will wait until he's down, then he will wake her up (please god let this work) and figure out what the hell he is supposed to do now.

It's Christmas Eve Eve—as Roland likes to call it—which is probably a cruel time to do this, but he doesn't even know if it will work and doesn't want to risk waiting and losing this opportunity.

He hears a soft knock at the door, which is odd, Marian normally just walks in. When he grabs the door he realizes why. Roland is sacked out in her arms in a set of his Christmas pajamas, and she's holding him in a way that doesn't allow her to open the door without jostling him. He holds the door for them, pulling it shut softly so it doesn't wake Roland. Not that it would even he let it slam, Roland tends to sleep like the dead once he's out, but one can never be too careful, and he needs this alone time with Marian to try and revive her memories.

Marian gently sets Roland down into his bed and he flicks on the light so she can see better. She tucks him under the covers and steps back, and okay, this is it.

They shut the door to Roland's room and pad near silently down the hall. She turns to leave, and he grabs her arm, "Wait, stay for a drink."

She doesn't have to work tonight, does have to work tomorrow night and Christmas night though, had drawn the short straw this year, which means she'll be staying up late tonight anyway.

She acquiesces and sits down on the couch, as he takes the opposite side. She grabs for his mug (he'd been sitting on the opposite side before) and he frantically tells her, "Not that one."

She arches a brow at him, calling him out for his excessive reaction. He explains lamely, "That's mine."

"Okay then," she says and reaches across for the other mug. He holds his breath as she brings it to her lips and takes a sip. He grabs his own, hoping it will make him seem less weird, and drinks it as he waits for something to happen.

She barely had any, so nothing changes, which he notices because he cannot stop staring intently at her.

"Robin, why are you being so weird?" she asks, and shit, he doesn't have an excuse prepared.

"I… um, well, it's a long story."

"But you _do_ want to talk about it, right? That's why I'm here and not wrapping Roland's presents."

He shakes his head at that, "You haven't wrapped them yet? Last minute much?"

She glares at him, "Mine are wrapped, just not his from Santa. I didn't want to risk him finding them since there's nowhere good to hide them in my apartment."

"Perhaps I should just wrap those ones," he suggests, thinking of how badly Marian wraps her gifts. She tries, or at least he thinks she does, but it's a skill that's always evaded her, resulting in him always wrapping Roland's gifts. And besides, "That way they all match, and he doesn't start to suspect anything."

"He's four, Robin, not twelve." She seems to change her tune then, likely realizing he's offered to do her a favour. "But yes, thanks, that would be good. Should I bring them up now?"

"Finish your drink first," he urges, trying not to show his impatience.

She gives him that look again, but sits back into the couch and takes a deep gulp so he can't be bothered to care. It takes her about fifteen minutes to near the end of the drink, and his worry increases with every sip when she doesn't react at all.

He's ruined it, just as he thought he might have, dammit. She's finished it and nothing has happened. What is he going to do now?

Just as he's given up, he sees her face twist with pain and he celebrates internally. She groans, bringing her face into her hands eyes squeezed shut, and croaks out, "My… my head."

He knows, he remembers, and he should not be this happy she is pain, but he is so damn relieved it's working. He sees the moment she comes to, by the way her face stops scrunching in pain, and her eyes fly open in shock.

"Robin," she breathes, "The—the—the c—curse…"

"I know."

"I… uh, I need a minute here."

He nods, he knows how disorienting this is. "Take all the time you need, can I get you anything?"

"A stronger drink, bring the bottle."

He does as asked, grabs the spiced rum, eggnog and a can of coke, precariously balancing them as he comes back in.

Marian is not a shots person, but she pours herself one as soon as he sets the bottle down, then opens the coke takes a sip and pours herself another, holding the bottle out questioningly toward his empty glass. He nods and she pours him a shot, not bothering to wait for him before she downs hers.

"Okay," she says still sounding very overwhelmed. "How did you… Why am I… _What did you do to my drink?_ "

"A potion. Sorry about that, I just, I needed someone to talk to."

"So everyone else is still…"

He nods and says, "Yeah," when he realizes she's not looking at him, instead pouring herself another drink.

"Okay," she breathes, "This is a lot to take in. Bear with me here. When did you find out about the curse?"

"A week ago."

"I thought you'd been acting even more miserable, but I just choked it up to your breakup and _Oh. My. God_ … you and the _Evil Queen_ , holy shit, Robin."

That's pretty in line with how he reacted, and yet, it rubs him the wrong way. "I didn't know who Regina was when we were together, nor did she. She shut me out once she remembered."

Marian's eyes narrow at him. "You still have feelings for her."

It's useless lying to her, she knows him too well, and besides, he's desperate for guidance about what to do. "I do, and I don't know what to do."

"What is there to do? She's the Evil Queen, Robin. Need I remind you of all she did?"

No, he knows well enough, he's replayed it all many times over the past week. "I _know_ , but I… She's not the person she used to be, and I can't help but wonder—"

"Wait, you did this what, to _get my permission_? I don't want her around my son, not with all she's done—"

"Lower your voice, unless you want to wake him up," he hisses, taking a moment to centre himself, to not let himself get angry. He knows he's been judging Regina since he found out, thinking terrible things about her and her past, but hearing it from someone else makes his blood boil.

"What happened to you, Robin? The man I fell for never would have even considered this."

That rubs him the wrong way. "What happened? Are you serious? Hmm, let's see, my wife left for so long I thought she died. My son lived for two years without a mother, then when you came back, you couldn't even stay _for him_."

"Do you think that was easy for me?"

"It damn well seemed like it," he bellows, instantly regretting his volume, hoping to god Roland is still out like a light.

Marian glares at him harshly, but keeps her tone calm and steady, "Well, it wasn't, but Belle saved my life and helped Mulan and I track you guys for over a year. I owed it to her to try and find her. I knew he was safe with you, I had a way to get back to you—and it's not like he was going to miss me since he didn't even know who I was. I made a choice, and maybe it wasn't what you would have done, but it was right for me. I thought I would come back and make things right with him, but then the curse hit."

"Four months later."

"I couldn't give up on her. Would you have if it were John or Will?"

The answer is no, he would have stayed looking for them for years, but not at the expense of abandoning his son. "It's not that simple."

"Maybe not, but I'm not the villain you think I am. It was more complicated than I let on."

"You had fallen for Mulan," he surmises, and her expression tells him all he needs to know. "I'm not mad about _that_ , just so you know."

"Just that I 'abandoned' our son, tell me, how many years has it been? How many years have we been here?"

"Twenty-eight," he says and watches as her eyes widen.

"I think that more than makes up for the two and a half you are so mad about, don't you?"

She has a point, and really there's no point rehashing the past, she's here now and Roland loves her. Roland has his mother again which is all he ever wanted. "You _may_ have a point."

She sighs, "I guess if I'm asking you to forgive my past, I need to keep an open mind about others. I still don't trust her, but I do trust you'll keep Roland safe."

That's a shock, but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Marian, I have no idea what to do…"

"That's a lie," she says with so much conviction it shocks him. "I know you, Robin, you know what you want, you just think you shouldn't or that it's the wrong thing. The first thing you did when I commented on her earlier was defend her, and I saw you two on the weekend. It's a mess and I'm not going to pretend to understand what draws you to her, but whatever it is, it's still there."

Now he's the one sighing because she's right. "I want to try. I fell in love with her once, I see her and I feel those feelings and… If I don't, I'll always wonder. I have to know if it was just because we were cursed or if there was something there."

"See, told you that you already had it figured out. Now what are you waiting for?"

"I… you were just yelling at me for it, and now you're telling me to go for it?"

She shrugs, "You are going to do it anyway, who am I to try and stop you?"

He laughs then, and soon they both are laughing hysterically at the crazy situation they've found themselves in.

He can't help but ask again, "You really think I should?"

"For god's sake, Robin. Go, go now, I have Roland."

He's still a bit stunned over the permission, the urging him to go, but he has to know if it can work. He's been given an opportunity to see, and it's time to seize it.

* * *

She's just about to fall asleep, is already tucked into her bed, when she gets a phone call. She feels her chest seize when she reads _Robin Locksley_ on the call display.

"Hello?" she answers cautiously, praying he's not about to yell at her.

"Come to the door," is all he responds with.

She tries to ask him what's going on, but he's hung up. She grabs her robe, throwing it over her silk pajamas and rushing down the stairs.

When she opens the door, there he is, fresh flecks of snow in his hair somehow making him look even more handsome. She stops and stares for a second, but just a second because then he's coming in, barely giving her time to let go of the door before his lips claim hers fiercely.

He's been drinking, she can taste the alcohol on his tongue, and though she wonders what this is, she's not fool enough to stop it. Not when she feels alive again for the first time in almost a month. She pulls him closer, and everything feeling right, even though she knows this is wrong. She basks in the feeling, in how his lips claim hers, in the feeling of his warm body flush against her, of his hands on her again, all the feelings she never thought she'd have again.

He's breathing heavily as he breaks the kiss, neither says anything for a moment as they catch their breath. She's too afraid to break the moment, is waiting for him to pull away and tell her this was a mistake, or goodbye forever.

Instead, his hand comes to her cheek, stroking lightly over it and pushing her hair from her face. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if we can make this work. There's so many things we don't know about each other, but I want to. I want to get to know you, Regina. I loved a version of you, and I don't know what the future will bring. All I do know is that I will kick myself for the rest of my life if I don't see whether this can be something."

She must be dreaming, this can't be real. But she's not and he's continuing. "I don't agree with most of what you've done, but I do believe everyone deserves a second chance, and that includes you, so what do you say?"

Her eyes well with tears, and all she can do is nod softly because his words have taken her voice away. He kisses her then, she pours all the things she can't say into the kiss. It's less frantic than the last time, and there's less desperation, more passion. His lips move from hers and trail all over her face in soft sweet pecks that make her want to melt into him. He pulls away to look at her again and tells her, "I can't promise this will all work out, and we have more baggage in our way than perhaps anyone ever has, but what I do know for certain is that I want to spend my holidays with you and your son. I want our little family back. So, Regina Mills, will you spend Christmas evening with me and my son?"

A stray tear falls then, how could it not when she's getting back a chance at a love she thought was as good as dead? "Yes."

They still have so much to work out, and she knows it will be hard, but in this moment, she has everything she ever wanted, and it's perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end (for now) thanks to everyone who's read and commented on this, it means the world to me 🥰


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